Cover Up: Models and mayhem–The Depot series
by Mrs.Phineas Bogg
Summary: Mac returns as Dani's Outrider to solve a tragic case where models died from a gruesome ailment. He and Crystal must go undercover at an agency to find the culprit before it causes a citywide panic and possibly makes Dani and her models their next target.
1. Lock up your beautiful women

**Cover Up: Models & Mayhem (The Depot Series)**

**Chapter 1: Lock up your beautiful women**

**New York City, 1984**

The man gently drew back the white sheet from the latest delivery. No matter that he was in this business for nearly twenty-five years, he always felt a tingle of dread, mingled with a warped fascination, to discover what lay beneath. It wasn't something that he could easily explain over polite dinner conversation, nor would his friends even want to hear what went on at the job. His ex-wife tried to pretend she wasn't appalled or repulsed, but he knew better when she had often shuddered under his touch. Such was the isolated life of Stanley Greenbaum, Chief Medical Examiner of the morgue in Midtown Manhattan.

Upon seeing the body, Dr. Greenbaum's fascination turned to bewilderment, then frustration. This was the sixth case to pass through his lab in the last two months in which each victim bore the same swelled, disfiguring markings and putrid acne-like scars all over their faces and spotted around their bodies.

"I'm trying to tell them, but do they listen to me? Of course not!" He said aloud as his assistant, a young Hispanic man fresh out of med-school, entered with steaming cups of black coffee and pastrami sandwiches for a late-afternoon repast.

"Trying to tell them what, Stan?" He put his paper bags down and peered at the form disdainfully. "Not another one? _¡Qué malo!_ What the heck is going on here?"

"That's what nobody seems to be able to figure out, including me. You know I don't like mysteries when it comes to my cadavers."

He took a sip of the coffee. "I know, Stan, you're cut and dried. So, who doesn't listen to you this time?"

Greenbaum paced the room and pulled at the remaining brown strands of hair on the top of his head. "The Mayor, who says I have to speak to the Police Commissioner, who then tells me he'll turn it over to Major Case. I'm trying to warn them about this, Manny. I suspect we may have a serial killer on the loose, but they don't want to scare up the public. They said they got detectives on it, but I haven't seen one in here since the third victim was brought in. It's like they plum forgot."

"Hum. If it's not a shoot-em-up, stabbing, or blunt instrument, they don't want the challenge. You're not gonna want to hear this either, Stan." He pulled the clipboard from under his arm and brought it over to their shared work desk. "I just got the tox reports back from the last five girls, but they haven't been able to trace anything substantial as yet. It may as well be _air."_ He flipped through the pages irritably. "There's nothing in here that suggests _known_ poisons either, so we can scratch off the usual suspects–arsenic, strychnine, cyanide, all that good stuff. Whatever it is, wasn't ingested, the stomach organs are clean, no puncture marks anywhere."

"Could it be something they inhaled? Maybe a killer plant spore? Oh wait, I know these glamour types, what about drugs?"

"They turned up clean for drugs, oh, except for two, we found small traces of cocaine, but that was just your usual high, nothing that would do this. Your guess is as good as mine right now, but it got into their blood stream somehow." Manuel Santana stroked his short beard and mustache. "If they really want to frighten the public they'll call this a health scare that affects gorgeous women five feet seven and over."

The doctor wanted to fling the clipboard across the room, but instead he slumped in his chair and meticulously cleaned his glasses. "Remind me again. Is there anything about the victims that we can connect to make a case for these bumbling bureaucrats? Anything to convince them that they need to start a _serious_ manhunt?"

Manuel clasped his hands and let out a long puff of air. "Four white, one Hispanic, one black, all in their early-to-mid twenties and in very good health. Remember their teeth? All of them had some brightening and bridgework and other corrections done, two had nose jobs, and they all sported fresh haircuts, the most popular styles. Their bodies were recently waxed, their skin is practically blemish free, signs of spa work and exfoliation…"

"What are you _not_ telling me, Manny?"

"Well, I didn't get to do complete background checks, Stan. I must leave _something_ for the detectives, but in my professional opinion I'd say they are all fashion models. Your glamour type guess was right. We may just have a psycho on our hands."

Doctor Greenbaum took a long swig of coffee and raised his hands. "I can just see the headlines now. _Model killer stalks city!_ "

"Lock up your beautiful women! News at ten!" Manny added.

"I guess they're not famous; I can't even get contacts for some of them. They must be estranged from their families. If only I had some outside help…wait a minute!" Doctor Greenbaum reached for his phone.

"Who you calling?"

"I have an old friend who owes me a ton of favors with the side work I do for him. I know he can help me get to the bottom of this. He has all the _right_ connections."

"Sounds dubious."

"He's not mafia, Manny, he's a U.S Ambassador."

"Oh. They probably run in the same circles anyway. Those guys know everybody."

Manny ate half his of sandwich and went to scrub his hands. Regardless of anything else, they still had more work to do and other bodies to tend to. He approached the table and snapped on his gloves. He glanced wryly at the cold, defaced form.

"Alright Senorita bonita, it's high time we found out what monster did this to you and your friends."

Doctor Greenbaum grew impatient after being put on hold. He scribbled on a notepad and then finally a secretary answered.

_"Aha!_ Yes, can you connect me with Mr. Henry Towler, please? Tell him it's Dr. Stanley Greenbaum, and I need a big favor."


	2. Return of the Outrider

**Cover Up: Models & Mayhem (The Depot Series)**

**Chapter 2: Return of the Outrider  
**

The shrill ring of the telephone jolted him awake. He lifted his head from under the pillow and banged his hand around until he grasped the receiver. Rolling onto his side he pinched his nose and spoke in a nasal 'New Yawk' accent.

_"City Morgue, you kill em' we chill em'!"_

"Mac, that's _not_ funny, and what are you, a mind reader?"

Mac Harper glanced at his digital clock; it was only seven in the morning. "Dani, I thought it was funny. What's up that you're calling me so early? Wait a minute, why are you even calling me? You have a perfectly good Outrider on hand to drag out of bed."

"Sorry, no." She cut him off. "Jack was sent on a mission to Columbia for a few weeks and you're all Henry has on short notice. And what are you being so mean to me for? Are you trying to say just because you're not my Outrider and model right now that our friendship is over too?"

Mac could just see the pout on her face, and he took note of the strident urgency in her voice and felt a little guilty. "Of course not, hon! You should know by now, I'm cranky first thing in the morning. Crystal and I had a long night."

"I'll bet you did!"

"A long night doing _surveillance_ on the last of those diamond smugglers I told you about. Anyway, what do you mean, _am I a mind reader?"_ He reached over and flicked on the lamp beside his bed. The sun wasn't planning to rise today as dark gray clouds filled the sky and heavy streams of rain pattered down his windows.

"The Midtown morgue. Henry got a call from the chief examiner there about a few very suspicious deaths, six girls, they were models, Mac."

Mac swung his legs off the bed, and keeping the phone in the crook of his neck, commenced making it neat and straightening his pillows.

"I'm sorry, Dani. Did ya know any of them?"

"No, these were new girls, just breaking in the biz. They eventually might have crossed my path for prints. Just come down to the studio apartment, we'll have breakfast and talk all this over. Henry's on his way with the examiner now."

"Wow. I'm sure they'll bring visuals. Okay, I'll get there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Mac." Dani sighed. "Your getting involved really means a lot to me personally."

Mac softened his tone. "Dani, I know how worried you can get. Don't be. I may not be your Outrider anymore, but I'm always there for you when you need my help."

"I know that, Mac. As great as Jack Striker is, you're still the best."

"I won't tell him you said that."

"I _know_ you won't, and yes, that's a threat if you do."

Mac chuckled and hung up the phone. After a quick shower he hurried to his closet. He threw on his favorite comfort clothes–a dark navy polo shirt, jeans and tan boots. He needed to make another phone call.

The woman on the other line answered groggily. _"He…Hel…_Hello?"

"_Good Morning, Mrs. Delancey. This is your personal wake-up call. The time is approximately 7:25am. It is seventy-five degrees with gusty winds and rain in your area."_ Mac said in a robotic voice.

"There had better be a good reason for this, _Mr. Delancey_. We weren't supposed to meet until lunchtime to go over the final plans for that heist." She groaned with her voice muffled by pillows.

"I just got a call from Dani and she needs an Outrider. Striker's _way _out in the field."

"Where'd they ship him off too now?"

"Columbia. And I doubt he's there for coffee with Juan Valdez."

"Most likely he's looking for the special brewed kind, with lots of powdery stuff that ain't sugar. So, what's going on, any details I can chew over before I get there?"

"Not much. But apparently Henry now thinks Outriders are homicide detectives."

"Oh boy. Time to update that resume of yours."

"You're not kidding. I'll only admit this to _you,_ Crys, but it's already giving me the willies."

Crystalyn Dugan, aka, _Mrs. Delancey_, sat up in her bed excitedly. "Mac's got the willies? This ought to be good!"

"Henry is coming to Dani's studio with the M.E. from the Midtown morgue, there's been a rash of dead models piling up and apparently the NYPD can't handle it."

"Is that what they said, or is that your opinion? I'm starting to see how much you thumb your nose at authority."

"Okay, the last part is all my opinion, but six dead models is nothing to sneeze at. I already heard it in Dani's voice. She's scared to death. Remember, the world of fashion is cloistered, they'll all be up in arms over this when it leaks out."

"Seriously. I really feel bad for those girls, I've followed on the news. What kind of sick freak would do something like that?"

"The world is full of sick freaks, and I took an oath to stop them."

"So did I. Hold on, babe."

Crystal climbed out of bed, and leaving it undone, hurried around to find her shoes and where she last put the pink shell top she brought back from the cleaners. She soon got tangled in the curly wires and tripped backwards on the bed.

"Crystal? What's going on there? You okay?"

"Oh! Fine! Fine. Just took a tumble. Mac, I appreciate you filling me in so far, but do you think they'd mind if I were there too? It doesn't sound like they asked for Mr. _and_ Mrs. Delancey."

"Look, we're a team now, besides, if this case gets any bigger, we may need your help anyway."

"I can already see myself dangling off your big, shiny hook, Mac."

"Glad you know my methods. Tried and true."

"I'm learning fast." She ran a brush through her newly cut and shoulder-length dark-blonde hair. "Hey, I'll meet you there, alright? No sense you waiting for me, I gotta shower and all that sweet girly stuff."

"Hey, do ya want some company?" He teased.

_"Mac!_ Just get to Dani's and make sure they know I'm coming. I don't want to walk in and have them look at me like I have three heads."

"I know. Two is more than enough for you, and more than I can take."

"Goodbye, Mac!" Crystalyn snickered and shut the phone, then bounded to the bathroom to get ready.


	3. Contamination

**Chapter 3: Contamination**

"You might want to finish eating that omelet before you look at these photos, Mac. It's not a pretty sight." New York Ambassador Henry Towler warned him as he passed a stuffed manila folder across Dani's glass coffee table.

"No problem, Henry, but just so you know, I have a very strong constitution."

Mac chugged the last of his orange juice, then swallowed the final bite of his ham and eggs and wiped his mouth. He brought his dishes toward Dani's sink and quickly washed them before she could complain. He glanced at the clock, it was after nine and Crystal still hadn't arrived.

_'Not only is she a little sloppy, she's tardy.'_ He thought wryly. _'We'll have to work on that.'_

Mac returned to Dani's couch and sat forward. Just as he opened the envelope, Dani's elevator rang and Crystalyn breezed off and hurried to his side.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was rough, morning rush hour, ya know?" She smiled fleetingly at Dani, Henry and the doctor. Mac eyed her sweet smelling and still-damp hair and forced himself not to shake his head. Traffic, _and_ a long run-in with a shampoo bottle were more like it.

"I'll fill you in later. You're just in time for the unveiling. Gentleman…ladies."

Mac opened the envelope and spread the pictures across the table grimly. His brow furrowed in confusion and anger as he examined each one. Dani peeked over his shoulder and gasped with a hand to her mouth. There were six facial portraits of the women covered with the mysterious acne and pock scars. Clipped to the tops of the files were their 'before' pictures, wallet-sized headshots obtained from the modeling studio they had a previous contract with. Crystalyn resisted a shudder and found herself tracing her fingers along the contours of her smooth face.

"What the heck happened to these girls? They were so gorgeous, all of them. It looks like a vicious disease." She asked the doctor.

Stanley wrung his hands and shook his head dismayed. "We are still not sure what in the world causes contamination of the skin like that, and we've sent out their tox screens to some of the best hospitals in the nation for further study. I'm still waiting on a few."

Mac gazed at Dani. The photographer had backed away from the table as far as she could and refused to look further. Whatever this was implied a direct assault on the modeling business and he could sense that she felt like a big target. He also knew that it dredged up frightening memories of Eric Ducane, a psychotic occult worshiper who went after models and nearly killed Dani, _'the queen who made them all.'_ After a trap they set went a little awry, Mac intervened to save Dani with threats of shooting Ducane, and literally brought the crazed man to a groveling, fetal position on the ground.

"And what about the police? They have _no_ evidence of how or where this happened?" Mac demanded.

"Not quite. The girls were found this way in their own homes by friends or relatives. Two survived a few days in the hospital, but they couldn't understand it either, much less move their mouths to answer questions. As far as I know, the police are still looking into it, but coming up empty."

"Figures." Mac grumbled. He stood up and came alongside Dani. He put a comforting hand on her arm and she turned around abruptly, tears stinging her green eyes.

"I want this maniac caught! Those could have been any one of my girls! This isn't a disease, it's outright murder!"

She put her head on Mac's shoulder and he drew her close for a hug. Crystalyn watched the display curiously, but said nothing.

Dani pulled away and dabbed her eyes. "I'm sorry, but these things get to me, you know?"

"We understand, Danielle, and this is why I took a particular interest in this when Stanley called me. I own him a lot for his help on tough cases in the past." Henry said.

"In most cases, the dead have no secrets that we can't uncover, but right now, we're stuck." Stanley admitted.

Crystalyn stood up and buttoned her blazer. "I think we need to hit the modeling studio where they worked. Mac and I can go in as…well, I'm a make-up artist, and Mac can do what he does best, modeling. That way we can talk to all their co-workers and start narrowing down this list of suspects, because right now, the whole city is suspect."

"That's a good idea, Crystal. Henry, can you set this up for us?" Mac asked.

"Of course."

"Wait a minute. What if Mac and I go in on this? I'm a well-known photographer, it would be a snap for me to get him through the door, no questions asked."

Crystalyn tried to avoid glaring at Dani and smiled tightly. "It's obvious this case has hit some personal notes with you, Mrs. Reynolds. That may not be the best thing for you to deal with right now. Besides, since you have an 'in' I think you can move around the fashion circles from where you stand now, try and find out the latest buzz, anything that can connect to this case."

Dani cocked her head and smiled back. "It's really no problem, Crystal. I was just having a moment, you can ask Mac. I get a little shaken, but then I'm ready for action. Mac and I work perfectly fine together, don't we?"

Mac pursed his lips and crossed his arms, afraid to take sides in the growing tension between the two women. It was going to be very hard to claim neutrality.

"Well_, uh_, of course we do, Dani, _um_…what do you think, Henry?" He rocked on his heels, and stared at him wide-eyed, hoping the ambassador didn't plead the fifth.

"Dani, Crystal's right. However, you can still be their representatives. Mac's going to need to show them his portfolio if you can get it together, and as for you, Crystal?

Crystal waved her hand. "I'm on top of that one. I have friends who did mock photo sessions with me and let me do their make-up. I should be okay. Dani could vouch for my talents, right?"

Dani put a hand on her hip, unable to hide her disappointment in being shoved out of the assignment. "I don't know, Crystal. I've never seen your work except for the make-up you wear on your face, which isn't very much."

Crystalyn's defenses rose and her cheeks reddened. "Well, I don't need a full _color palette_ on my face to enhance my looks, Mrs. Reynolds. Most make-up artists barely have time to do their own make-up. It's not practical in my line of work anyway, unless I'm on a _cover._" She turned to Henry. "Thanks for settling this. I'll go get my things together. Mac, what do you need to do?"

"Well first I need to change into something a little more spiffy, and get the portfolio in order."

Dani went into her closet and proceeded to pull out a large black portfolio and placed it in his hands. "I'm on top of things around here too, Mac. This is all of you and a few shots with the girls."

"Oooh, _'The best of Mac Harper: The Definitive_ _Collection_. I can't wait to see what you got in here."

"Me too. I never did see all those modeling poses." Crystalyn chimed in.

"I'm sure you and any agent would approve of these shots, Mac. I even put the original shot of you in the fatigues from the army ad. They'll eat it up, especially if you tell them you worked for me. They'll recognize you."

Stanley and Henry edged toward her elevator. "Well, we'll be sure to keep in touch once we find out more information on this, I really thank you for the help. You can imagine how depressing it is on my end to see these girls rolled into my lab so disfigured." Stanley shook their hands.

"Not to mention, _dead_ in the prime of life." Crystal added glumly.

"Oh, of course not, but if you've been in the work as long as I have, death becomes formality. I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Mac hurried over and stopped the doctor before he boarded the elevator. "One more thing, Dr. Greenbaum. You said something a few minutes ago, that you didn't know what could cause a contamination of the skin like this?"

"Yes?"

"Well maybe that's the key word here–_contamination._ What if…what if it was something they used, like a product maybe, a product that someone obviously tampered with when he singled them out for an attack?" Mac said, the wheels turning in his mind.

"That's a very good assumption! We'll definitely look into that one."

"Yes, you could have the detectives go back to their homes and test for anything that may be tainted with unusual compounds." Henry suggested. "We'll get that started, Mac. In the meantime, you have the diamond case to work on for today. Get yourself ready for this one though, because by tomorrow morning, you and Crystal will be going to the _Jezebel Modeling Agency _for a meeting. Dani, you know what to do with that, right?"

"I'll get on the phone with them now."

Crystal tugged Mac's arm. "I think we need to get going too. We still have to work out our plan to catch these smugglers. We need to move in on them tonight."

"Uh, ya know what, Crystal? Why don't you head out to the museum ahead of me and start scouting the place. I'll be there soon. I still have to talk to Dani."

Crystalyn went onto the elevator when it returned up to the studio. She glanced back a last time, hoping he'd come with her. Mac and Dani were stooped over Dani's drafting table, going over the autopsy files again and talking in low tones.

"Okay, Mac, _um…_I'll see you when I see you."


	4. Botched smuggle

**Chapter 4: Botched smuggle**

Crystalyn had all the final evidence she needed during her little trip to the Metropolitan Museum and subsequent surveillance on the diamond smugglers. They were working from the inside; two were security guards and the ringleader was the visiting curator for the Imperial Russia Jewelry exhibit in the museum's costume and accessory wing. Crystalyn had spent the earlier part of the day in a dark wig and glasses, professing to be a stern representative of the company that provided the security system for the museum. It was no easy task, but she was eventually given a short tour and discovered that simple motion detectors around the case secured the large diamond and it was roped off to prevent constant alarm tripping.

It was after hours at the museum and Mac had never showed up. He wasn't home, and when she tried to call the studio, Dani's assistant Rick told her she couldn't interrupt the photo sessions. Crystalyn wanted to twist her new partner into a pretzel. The smugglers were planning to flee the country after obtaining the hefty diamond. Once they escaped with the fake, Henry and a whole slew of armed officers would be waiting to make the arrests at the airport. The Outrider division was ordered by the Russian Consulate to not let them get away with the real diamond at any time, so Mac and Crystalyn decided to beat the thieves at their own game and they devised a plan to replace it from inside the museum.

Mustering up every stealth skill she had, Crystalyn made her way through the stuffy, wide air vents until she found herself directly over the 'Imperial' room. She looked at her watch. The guards and curator were not due to infiltrate the diamond for another twenty minutes and hopefully they didn't change their arrangement. She cautiously removed the vent grating and peered down into the darkened area. The silhouettes of the eighteenth and nineteenth century dresses and uniforms were standing upright in their cases without bodies to fill them. The scene creeped her out, but she had put aside her boogieman fears long ago.

Making sure the rappel line was secure; she lowered herself down cautiously. The echo of the nylon threading seemed deafening to her, but no one came running. She unhooked herself and crept toward the diamond case with her flashlight, stopping within two feet of it. She placed a molded face-mask over her nose and mouth and put on a pair of goggles. She pulled out two spray bottles from her knapsack, one filled with ammonia, and one with acetic acid.

"Here goes nothing…this silly trick better work or else I'll _really_ twist Harper backwards and forwards."

Crystalyn sprayed the two chemicals in the air and it formed a warming mist. She immediately jumped through it. The alarm wasn't triggered. She approached the case with her flashlight, momentarily admiring the stunning, chiseled facets that reflected the light.

"Oh great! There's probably an incendiary alarm on here. You're CIA, _not_ a cat-burglar!" She scolded herself and got on her knees to look for any other alarm attachments. She was about to give up and cut into the glass when she noticed a panel shift on the display stand. She ran her hand over it and it slid to the right, leaving a hollow opening.

"Those tricky devils! They didn't trust themselves with the alarm systems either."

The space was long enough to put her arm through and reach up into the case. She pulled the phony diamond from a soft pouch in her bag and made the transfer as swiftly and precisely as possible. The curator would know how he placed the diamond on the velvet pillow. She drew her arm out carefully and put the real diamond in the pouch, then secured it in her knapsack. Three angry voices reverberated from the opposite side of the foyer and they startled her. She darted from her spot, but her arm hit the case and then suddenly an alarm blasted in a series of loud bells.

"Real smooth, Mrs. Delancey. You already forgot about the motion sensors!" She muttered.

She lunged for the rappel rope but didn't stop to tie it around her properly. She began a hasty climb. The thieves ran into the room.

"Stop her!" The curator yelled. "She's trying to steal the diamond!"

"No she didn't it's still there!"

The curator raced to the display. "No! She switched them! Hurry! Grab her!"

The two burly security guards raced forward and attempted to reach for her. Crystalyn kicked them, managing to strike one in the face with her boot heel, and he fell. She couldn't get up fast enough before the larger of the two grabbed for her waist and yanked her off.

"You're not going anywhere, girlie!" He rasped loudly.

"Get off of me!" She writhed under his tight hold.

Crystalyn elbowed him in the gut and when he doubled over she pulled out the bottle of ammonia and sprayed him in the eyes.

"_Damn!_ That burns!" He shouted among other infuriated oaths. His hands flew to his eyes and he staggered around the room, knocking into costume displays and sending off more shrill alarms.

Crystal was about to race out another direction when she heard an ominous click behind her. The curator had a gun aimed directly at the back her head.

"Put your hands up where I can see them and face me." He snarled.

Crystal raised her hands and turned slowly.

"How dare you break into the museum like this and attempt to steal my diamond!" His voice shook angrily with an ersatz European accent, and his watery gray eyes bulged. She realized he was so close to accomplishing his own heist and she had put a big wrench in his escape plan. She could only try and talk her way out of being shot down.

"It's not your diamond! Hey, I'm…I'm just _a…a_…stupid cat burglar! Never did this before in my life, and thought I would get a big thrill. Look, why don't you call the police and just have me arrested, there's no need to wave that thing around."

The curator laughed. "I'll wave it wherever I please. I can't just let you go, you surely overheard us!"

Crystalyn's eyes grew bigger with fright. "No! I didn't hear anything. I mean that."

"_Too late!_ I haven't worked and planned for this long to get the Imperial diamond, only to have some amateur screw me up!"

"No! Stop!" Crystalyn squeezed her eyes shut and waited for him to pull the trigger. However, it never went off. There was a loud _'Ooomph!_'and a hard thud. When she opened her eyes, the curator lay flat out on the shiny floor, unconscious.

"I'd thought I'd drop in!" Her rescuer announced.

Mac Harper used his momentum on the rappel rope and swung backwards, turning his body and legs toward the other two who tried to lunge at him. He landed on the big one's shoulders and they stumbled around the room. The guard thrashed his arms above his head, but he was unable to get Mac off him. Mac suddenly flipped off, bringing him crashing to the floor. Crystalyn came out of her initial shock and pulled her weapon on the last one standing.

"Don't you move a muscle!" She threatened. The weasel-looking guard slumped his shoulders and put his hands up, then kept very still.

The room flooded with lights and Henry and a team of police rushed inside, immediately dragging the smugglers up and cuffing them.

Crystalyn opened her bag and removed the diamond, putting it in Henry's hands.

"I believe this needs to go home."

Mac tossed the fake one from hand to hand. "That's right. It _belongs _in a museum…back in Russia."

"Right, not here to be stolen by amateurs." Crystalyn said bitterly.

Henry wiped his brow with relief. "Thank you both! Job definitely well done. They'll be very glad to have this returned. What a trip it had. Stolen from the Hermitage museum, sold on the black market for millions, then it winds up in the hands of this shady curator who wants to steal it for himself. Returning this will surely improve our relations with the USSR." Henry complimented them and then went to clear up further matters with the police.

Mac came alongside Crystalyn and put his hand mildly on her shoulder. "Hey, Are you okay? That went well, didn't it? That little chemistry lesson I gave you worked, right?"

Crystal turned and glowered at him. "Went _well?_ You left me to do this all by myself. I nearly got killed, but of course once you swept in and saved the day with your corny entry lines, everything is _fine,_ right?"

Mac should have known she would not be happy over the turn of events. When he realized the immediate danger she was in he felt awful. "Crystal, I can explain. I got caught up with Dani and we finalized everything for tomorrow at the modeling agency and then I was…"

"What? Posing for the GQ swimsuit issue? I called the studio, but they wouldn't put me through. I heard _you_ plenty in the background though, having a grand old time! Just like the _old_ Outrider days."

"That wasn't planned, Dani needed a male model at the last minute for a big layout and with Jack gone I'm the only filler."

Crystalyn refused to hear any lame excuses. "That has nothing to do with _us_ and _our_ assignment! We were supposed to work this out _together._ You didn't even have the respect to call me and tell me you'd be late or that you wouldn't be here at all. These guys would have gotten away and you would have found me on the floor with a bullet in my head!"

Crystal shoved him out of her way and stormed off toward the main entrance. Mac was straight on her heels as she bounded down the stone steps outside the museum. He caught up to her and forced her to face him.

"Crystal, I'm very sorry. You're right! It was completely irresponsible of me. I knew you'd be impulsive enough to go in alone, that's why I had Henry and the cops make the bust right from here. Believe me, I was always two-steps behind you in this."

Crystalyn frowned and poked him in the chest. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because you think you _know_ me? Because you're so proud and cocky that you thought you had the diamond and _my life_ in the bag? You could have told me this! I'm CIA, but I never did much covert work on this level before. I needed you…I needed you to _help me_ and you weren't there!_"_

Her eyes filled with tears, and she couldn't control them. For a brief moment she thought of her father. He trusted his partner Jordan with his life and then not only was he left to fend for himself, but his partner betrayed and killed him. Mac would never do that to her, but for a short while she did feel a small sense of betrayal.

She softened her tone. "Mac, I know I'm not Dani. I'm the new gal here, just coming in and throwing your entire operation for a loop. Nobody likes that, but I'm sorry. I'm here now and we are supposed to work as a team, you made the decision to do this too. If you don't want to be my partner, if you want things back to normal, just tell me, and I'll put in for re-assignment."

"That's not what I want, Crystal." There was no denying the facts. If he had been any further behind her, she _would_ have been dead. It was one thing to play stupid heroics with his life, but another to endanger hers. He held out his arms to embrace her. At first she resisted, but then settled in his grip. He brushed his fingers through her hair and nuzzled his cheek on her head.

"I never should have done this to you. We had a job to do tonight and I blew it. It was _highly _unprofessional on my part. I'm going to explain all of this to Henry and…"

Crystalyn pulled away and quickly shook her head. She stroked his face, sensing his genuine remorse. "No. I don't want you to say anything. It's over, and they're caught red-handed. Next time you want to play male model, let me know first so I won't look like an idiot."

Mac nodded, though still shamefaced. "Stop. You're _not _an idiot. You're a terrific agent that just needs more covert training…and you'll get it with me. Please let me make it up to you. Come on, I'm starving. We'll have some dinner and settle out the plan of action for tomorrow."

"It's nearly midnight and I'm tired. Maybe another night?"

Mac stroked her arm and then surprised her with a gentle kiss on the lips. "I got a better idea, why don't we go back to my place and work this all out?"

Crystalyn eyed him passionately, but with weariness. "No, Mac. I want to go home and just…_think._ I'm a little discombobulated right now."

Mac drew her closer again. "I can make that go away."

"No, you can't. Because every time I look at you, I'm constantly reminded that we're partners on the _job,_ and right now, looking at you makes me want to clock you one big time…nothing more." She admitted freely.

Mac backed away and shrugged. "I won't argue with a lady. What happened to all that sweet stuff between us right after the Stinger case? We weren't talking about jobs then."

As his clear, unwavering eyes stared her down, Crystalyn blushed. "I realized how highly unprofessional _I _was being, and I explained it to you once, it's just…it's just too complicated right now. It will make working for the greater good much harder if we can only think of each other in a romantic capacity." She said resolutely, trying to control the quivering in her voice.

Mac tossed his hands up and folded his arms. He glanced down at her dryly. "Got ya, Mrs. Delancey, partners on the job only. I guess I've always been right about myself. I'm really best _alone."_

"Mac I didn't mean we could never…"

Mac inhaled sharply. "I had a girlfriend here once, a civilian, just a lovely lady I met in the supermarket. It was really nice. Hearts and flowers for a bit, but who was I kidding? I felt torn; I didn't have a chance to tell her my real job. She thought I was just Dani's model. I didn't even think I wanted her to know the truth and technically, it wasn't allowed. Dani's husband didn't even tell her _he _was an Outrider."

Crystalyn was intrigued. "Where is she? Did she find out and leave you?"

"No. She was murdered, right in her neighbor's apartment and under my nose. I got the rap for it because I found her."

"I'm so sorry, Mac. I didn't…I didn't know." Crystalyn felt terrible, but she struggled to find the right words of comfort, so she let him continue. She tenderly grasped his hands and Mac smiled and caressed hers.

"Don't be sorry, how could you know? It was a big mess for a while, but thank God for Henry pulling whatever strings he pulls. Still, Dani and I had to get involved. Cindy was an innocent victim of circumstance, and it unraveled a much larger conspiracy. Crystal, I guess the point I'm trying to make is, I'll probably always be alone. Some Outriders can have it all and juggle two lives, but not me. When I go out with regular girls I'd always be lying to them and putting them in harm's way. And I understand why we can't be together either. I'll respect that and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel compromised."

Mac turned aside from her and stared out across Central Park. He couldn't meet her affectionate, brown-eyed gaze. Crystalyn reached up and hugged him from behind, placing her face against his back. Mac savored it. She turned him around and they clung to one another for a final time.

"You _never _made me feel compromised. I enjoy being with you no matter what. For now, it just is what is, right?"

Mac swallowed hard and nodded as they pulled apart. "Right."

Crystalyn slowly left him and started walking in the direction of her van. "Want a ride home?"

"Nah. I got to finish up some stuff with Henry. You get home safe. Let's meet up around eight-thirty. We'll have breakfast and my appointment with agency is at eleven. Sound good?"

Crystalyn stared carefully at him. Eventually, she hoped these tumultuous feelings they shared for each other would pass. "Yes, it's fine. Come to my place. I live closer to this studio. Goodnight, Mac."

"Goodnight, Crystal."

Mac went to find Henry to clarify any reports and tell him the truth about what happened tonight. It would have eaten him up inside to not say anything and take all the credit. He may be incorrigible, but he had integrity.


	5. Jezebel

**Chapter 5: Jezebel**

"Hold still, you have a fly-away."

"Come on, Crys, that's the fifth time you fixed my hair."

"Well, learn how to tame that mane!"

"This isn't my usual style."

"But it looks so hot." She smirked.

Mac heaved his shoulders. "It takes me forever to get this way, I don't have time to waste, ya know?"

Crystal sighed and stopped with Mac in the middle of the avenue. After licking two fingers, she smoothed down the frizz sticking up from the left side of his parted, dirty-blonde hair. Crystal took the cover of Mac's mousy personal assistant and make-up artist, and Mac, as expected, the 'star' model. They stopped in front of the building and made sure it was the right address, it looked unassuming and gloomy on the outside, as most businesses in New York did. Once they entered the big lobby they were assaulted with pulsing pop music and snazzy neon lights buzzing around giant Warhol inspired portraits of the agency's most successful models. It was all akin to a fashion circus.

"Oh my goodness! _Look!_ I have to try this!" Crystal sprinted over to the waiting area. On the floor was a purple and black checkerboard rug and she plopped down on a chair shaped like a giant red high heel. She had to scoot up to the toe section of the heel to at last have a comfortable position.

"Well, the concept was cool." She shrugged and then eyed the women gliding back and forth in couture fashions. "I don't think some of these women know what food is." She mumbled, now embarrassed to be wearing a brown and cream tweed skirt-suit ensemble to create the 'plain Jane' effect for her cover.

Mac stifled a laugh and went up to the chrome plated front desk. All he had to wear was his slacks, pale gray dressy shirt and black blazer. The receptionist swung around and stopped filing her metallic blue nails. She peered up at him with sloping blue eyes, heavily made up with blue and silver eyeshadow and black eyeliner tarred across her upper and lower lash lines. Her tangerine toned hair was parted severely on the right side and practically shaved, the long half folding down in a giant frizzy bang over her right eye in a punk peek-a-boo style. She wore a sour expression; her gaze seemed out of focus but had a certain shrewd quality. Mac saw his reflection a thousand times over in the silver spangles and blue sequins that marred her tight outfit. He could tell beneath the goop and discreet face-lifts she had once been a beautiful woman, and especially when he saw her young modeling portrait hanging over the desk as if she reigned supreme.

"Hello, Ms. Nichols, I'm here for my appointment."

"Call me Stella."

"Stella. My name is Mackenzie Delancey and that's my assistant over there, Jodie Meyer. She'll handle all my inquiries and business dealings with this Agency."

"A smug one, aren't you? We haven't even signed you yet."

"Oh you will. I've worked with the greatest, as you'll see in my portfolio. This is small potatoes, really, but, for what it is, it's the best." He rapped on the table with wide eyes. "At least that's what my assistant tells me…wave to the woman, Jodie."

Crystal stopped pretending to stare into space, she pushed up her huge, red-rimmed glasses and waved shyly. "He's the greatest and handsomest model you'll ever _hire_…in the _entire_…world." She beamed and then snorted with laughter. _"Heh heh_, that almost rhymed, didn't it Mr. Delancey, _didn't it?"_

Mac shook his head toward Stella. "I don't know why I keep her, she's a half wit, but she has a wonderful gift for following instructions and makes the best coffee. Like a puppy she is. Her make-up skills are above par." He cupped his mouth halfway. "I think she's secretly in love with me, bless her _dear _heart." He whispered too loudly.

Stella rolled her eyes at Crystal and looked Mac up and down with an eye of approval. "_Well, well, well,_ you must be Claude's eleven o'clock. I received a _glowing _phone call from Danielle Reynolds. She's one of the top photographers used by this Agency in the last ten years. In fact, she modeled for Claude many, many years ago. I remember because I was a model for him too. Claude apparently _adores_ her!"

Mac raised an eyebrow at the sudden stridency in her tone, but she cleared it quickly and he said nothing.

"You do have your resume and portfolio with you? I'll have to bring them into Claude first. He's the director here." She continued a bit more cheerfully.

"Can't I just go inside? I'm not a man known for being patient." Mac made a move for the door and she stood up and placed a long fingernail on his chest.

"Nope. Claude doesn't waste his time; he's a very busy man. If he doesn't like your face from your pictures, do you think he'd want to meet you in person?" She explained. "You'll wait here. There's no red-carpet treatment in this place, that's for sure." She said dryly and went into Claude's studio alongside her desk.

Mac shrugged, grabbed a handful of complimentary dry mints, and joined Crystal. He situated himself in the center of another art-deco chair that was shaped like a pair of woman's lips. He scratched his head and yawned loudly.

"I hope you know what you're doing sending me here, _Jodie._ I could easily be on a plane to Milan or Paris by now."

Crystal giggled again and looked over a phony itinerary, which was actually a list of growing suspects. She made sure to put Claude Dupont and Stella Nichols on top, along with a section for their positions at the agency and their 'suspicious' mannerisms.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Delancey, Milan and Paris will be sorry to have not returned our phone calls once they realize you're working in this classy place."

Mac's watchful gaze surveyed the lobby and he noticed a very young woman with black hair stop before a photo on the wall and look on saddened. She quickly pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes, to prevent her make-up from running.

"Go for it, Mac. I bet she's the grieving best-friend." Crystal said sympathetically, but scribbled in her notebook. "And get a name!"

Mac agreed and approached the girl casually, pretending to look at the images. He bumped her shoulder and she jumped.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I was so enthralled with these photographs I didn't see where I was going. Sometimes I'm clumsy."

The woman smiled and hid her tissue in her fist. "It's alright, are you a new model here? I've never seen your face before…though, you do look familiar." She examined him closely.

"Oh me? Yes, I'm new here, but I'm a model by trade. I've done magazine work, catalogs, cologne ads, that sort of thing. And yourself?"

"Similar. Right now I'm working on swimsuits and perfume. Claude tells me I have a sultry Ava Gardner quality they are trying to _extract _for the latest perfume, _Noir_. Except, _my hair looks like a tumbleweed after a Tornado in Texas._" She patted it down self-consciously.

Mac nodded slowly. The girl was barely past twenty, but she did have that brunette 'vixen' look with narrow dark eyes, full lips and high cheekbones.

"He apparently knows his stuff, but I like the wild hair. I think you'll be great for it."

"Thank you. My name is Lindsey Brewster."

"Mackenzie Delancey. You can call me, Mac."

"Well Mac, just so you know, Claude is picky, stubborn and a highly opinionated perfectionist to the point of exasperation. I mean, he can make you want to literally kill him!"

Mac heard Crystal sneeze and she kept writing down more observations.

_"Ehh,_ I know the type. He wears black turtlenecks and blazers of every color too, right? Has weekly manicures, Middle-aged with black hair streaked with white that he slicks back like a figure eight ball, trims his goatee until it just skims his jaw line and even plucks his eyebrows for an incisive yet startled look that throws people off balance."

"Awesome! You _do_ know the type!"

"Well, I saw his picture around Stella's desk too." He pointed in that direction and noticed Stella had returned to answer the torrent of calls, but Claude had not come out.

Lindsey laughed and Mac decided it was time to bring up real business. "I don't mean to pry, but I noticed you crying while looking at this picture."

He touched the photo. Four of the girls who had died, and Lindsey, were posing in fifties garb in a happy-go-lucky shot around a pink Cadillac.

"Oh! I didn't mean for anyone to see that, it's just that, well…it's was on the news last night, they were found _dead!_ I couldn't believe it! I've worked with these girls for six months and we became real close, like best friends." She pointed to the Spanish girl in the center. "Ana was my roommate too, a tough chick, but utterly feminine. She always had our backs, she said. I wish I could have had hers before someone killed her. Did you hear about their deaths, Mac?"

Mac heard Crystal choke as she paced the lobby and stared at Lindsey uncertain.

"I don't think I have."

"Oh it was horrible! The news says it was some kind of skin disorder that affected their vital organs. I can't imagine. They didn't even show the photos of the disorder. I would have really like to have seen them."

Mac stared at her oddly. "Why on earth?"

"Because, maybe it's something catching or recognizable. If modeling doesn't pan out, I'd like to be a nurse."

"If it were recognizable, I'm sure the news would have reported it."

"Oh no. They wouldn't want to scare everyone."

"Why would they be scared?" Mac pressed.

"Well, because like I said, it might have been catching and disfiguring maybe…oh, I have to run, my boyfriend is waiting for me." She waved toward a tall brown-haired fellow who entered the lobby, a college football type, still insecure, yet hotheaded. Mac backed away.

"Go ahead. Don't want him to see me talking to you and have him get jealous."

"Oh, Brian always gets jealous, but he really has nothing to worry about. I have him convinced that most of the male models _umm_, are…well, that they…"

Mac grinned and dipped his wrist. "Sway the other way?"

Jodie sighed relieved. "Yeah, that. Do you?"

Crystalyn's warning gaze nearly burned a hole through him and he shook his head. "That I ain't, but if Brian has any doubts, you can just tell him you're not sure, I can live with that."

"Thanks, Mac! You're really down to earth I guess. Gotta run!"

Lindsey flew past Crystal and grabbed her boyfriend's arm before he made a move toward Mac and they left the building. Mac returned to his lip chair.

"I see you were quick to add Lindsey to your hit list. You're really roping the herd in, aren't you?"

"Yeah, she has a weird fascination with wanting to see the damage on the girls, and isn't it funny how she _assumed_ it would be something disfiguring?"

"Hmm, she did mention she would have liked to have helped her friend Ana from the _killer."_

"Exactly, Mac. Who said they were even murdered? That's hypothetical. Of course they were."

"Most likely the news, they need the ratings. But they also reported that the 'disfigurement' left acne and pock like scars. That's the worst thing that could happen to a model. It's like losing a limb."

Crystal shrugged. "What would I know? I'm not model material."

Mac shook his head. "That's not true at all." He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Ya got great legs."

She blushed and shoved him away. "Yes it is true, that I'm not model material, I mean. I'm too short, not skinny enough and I have too much of a tan."

"You're only thinking of the runway models. They're the willowy ice queens." Mac noted.

Crystal discreetly stroked his cheek. "Speaking of tans, I knew we forgot to do something. Your natural Norwegian Pallor has returned ever since you stopped working with Dani. I can see your inner marshmallow."

"What? It's not _that _bad! Don't worry, they'll tan me up and roll me in a baby-oil bath in no time. It's swimsuit season, remember?"

"_Uck,_ I hope not too much!"

"I'll tell them I want slightly toasted, _not_ roasted."

"Sure, like a toasted, crunchy, carmelized, almond praline, custard rich vanilla_…mmmm!_ That's fine."

Mac stared at her skeptically. "Are we still talking about _me_, or Good Humor?"

Crystal snapped to attention. "Why, Good Humor Ice cream of course! Toasted almond pops are the best."

Mac grinned slyly. _"Oookayyy. _Speaking of tans, where does yours come from when you're a _Dugan_."

Crystal grinned. "My dad may be _Dugan_ but my mom was _Catalano,_ from Palermo, Sicily."

_"Oh, _so that's where those deep, dark and mysterious eyes of yours come from."

Crystal smiled. "You make me sound like a vamp. And don't forget the dimples, well, they're from my mom anyway."

Mac gazed at her, deciding no matter how plain she tried to look, her natural attractiveness shone through. "I like the dimples. Sweet, yet saucy."

Crystal had a sudden, desperate urge to kiss him on the spot, but instead she glanced down at the floor and twisted her feet shyly. The door to Claude's studio swung open and he emerged flustered. Mac could already tell his manner was somewhat high-strung.

"_Paulo? Paulo?_ Stella, where's Paulo? I told him I wanted a lemon Iced tea almost a half-hour a go! Now the lemon will be soggy and the iced tea too bitter. When he does come with my lunch, send him back immediately for a new tea. I don't know what a person has to do to get good hired help these days…and _there you are!_ I told Stella to send you in an hour ago."

Mac approached confidently. _"Aww,_ it was only five minutes really, besides, she's terribly busy with the phones."

"Don't contradict me, young stud. Come!" He snapped.

Claude pulled him by the arm toward his studio and Crystal followed along, almost getting the door slammed in her face. However she came in, not surprised to see his studio had the same gaudy pop-art décor as the lobby. She quietly took a seat on the electric blue leather sofa. Claude pulled Mac's jacket off and had him stand in the center of the room.

"Let me get a full body look at you, turn…now the other way…stand in profile. Nice jaw line, love those tense, rounded muscles that bulge out of it. Those can give you a steely, _animalistic_ dominance of the feline persuasion or a soft and boyish look. The hair is much too sixties Robert Redford, we'll have to change that, perhaps go a little lighter, it's looking like day-old mushy oatmeal. Brown is much too harsh for you. I want Male models, not A-sexual ken dolls." He ranted.

Mac just stood at attention and forced down laughter as Claude made his observations and patted down his arms.

"A perfect piece of white meat and white bread. Wonderful muscle tone. I can only imagine what's underneath. Take your shirt off."

Mac was about to protest until he saw Crystal nod quickly. He had to play this up like it was all old hat to him. He reluctantly removed it. Claude gaped at the scar that ran across his left side.

"Ruined! What is _that_?"

"_Uhh,_ bar fight? You should see the other guy."

" I didn't figure you for that type. Fine, we can work around it. It's not too noticeable."

Mac had to grin, remembering when Dani said the same thing after he lifted his shirt for her first inspection.

"Such a wide smile! Clean, white teeth. A bit gummy, but nonetheless good-natured and pleasing, very_ boy next door_." Claude slapped his muscles. "You're all upper body, massive amounts of chest hair, but fortunately for you, Tom Selleck has made it in vogue."

"Right, because I can take razor if I have to for some pictures, but nobody is coming near me with hot wax."

"Fine, fine, but we'll still need pruning shears. Your back is smooth, the shoulders, we can work with these tufts. Now, moving lower, I can tell the legs are a bit scrawny, but you do have quite a package."

"Uhh…_hey!_ And my legs are not scrawny, they're _lean._ I run a lot and swim regularly." Mac tried to defend himself.

"King Louis the XV would have just said he was a great lover, that's why he was always posing _leg out_ in his portraits. At least he had good legs, because he was ugly as sin. Your modesty is disarming, but you can't fool me. I've been in this industry too long and seen too much."

"I'm very athletic, and was always slim as a teenager and stuff so…" Mac was growing riled.

"Calm your nerves. I'm being honest. There's no such thing as perfection in this world. You'll bulk them up soon enough, just like we'll get rid of the _Casper the friendly ghost_ skin tone. It may work for models in Iceland, but this is America, home of tan and the brave."

He peered uncomfortably close in Mac's face._ "_Fantastic complexion, but we'll need to trim those eyebrows, there should be _two_. If Groucho Marx and Grace Kelly had a son, it'd be you! Those Adriatic eyes are compelling, but they are a little too big and rounded. It kind of gives you a dazed and goofy-_you caught me sneaking in the cookie jar_ look, but nonetheless, it also accentuates your obvious charm and supposed innocence. We can work with that."

Mac was growing annoyed with being on display and Lindsey was right. He could drive anyone into the dirt with his fleshly opinions. He could only imagine the scrutiny Claude put women under.

"Are you almost _finished?_"

"Raise your pants, I just want to see what lies beneath."

Mac did as he was told and Claude squeezed his calves. "Solid as a rock, but slightly bowlegged. We'll have to definitely work on your strut; it's horrendous! You bend your knees too much, as if you're about to tackle someone. This is modeling, not the NFL. Turn your feet in when you walk; you're a full-grown man, not a penguin trekking across the North Pole. I know your type, you're the guy who sits on the subway and takes up half the row because you have to spread your legs wide open."

_"Paaaaahahahahaha!" _Crystal had to grab her gut from her laughter and Mac could have sliced her with his stare. Claude suddenly realized there was someone else present in the room. He frowned.

"Who is this _person?_ Why is she here?"

Mac craned his neck, trying to control his temper. "That's my personal assistant, where I go, she goes. You have your demands, and so do I."

"Fine, we'll keep Jane Eyre."

"Her name is Jodie, and anything financial and business related goes through her, plus, she's my make-up artist."

"I can only imagine what else she does for you." Claude pulled Crystal under the spot light with Mac.

"Who is she trying to kid here?" He pulled off her glasses, and immediately undid the French braid she had worked over an hour on. He tousled his fingers through her hair and twirled her in a circle while he took off her jacket.

"If she is going to be seen walking around here and being your representative then she needs a make-over too, and pronto! We only appreciate quality here."

"Excuse me? I like myself just the way I am." Crystal retorted.

"Yes, Frieda Kahlo said the same thing I'm sure, but she also didn't have to shove her god-awful ugly self portraits down our throats either. I will not have you staining _Jezebel's_ pristine reputation. You are obviously a beautiful woman and if you want to step foot into my building you will show it. Is that clear?"

Mac nudged her with his elbow. "Yes, that's clear, Mr. Dupont. But I thought you said nobody is perfect in this world."

"Ahh, I forgot to add, until they come to Jezebel's modeling studio! You will only call me, Claude. The both of you come with me. When you return here tomorrow, I expect to see you come in with the same care and precision in your appearance that we're about to bestow upon you now."

Crystal smiled giddy. A free makeover was every girl's dream. Mac was less than enthusiastic, but it was all part of the cover game. As they followed behind Claude toward the dressing and make-up rooms Mac spoke to Crystal quietly.

"I have a feeling that somebody in this building was severely burned by Claude."

"Ya think? And now they exact revenge on all his new models to make him look guilty…or just _shove it in his face_ like a Kahlo painting_. _Although, for someone who just lost six clients to horrid deaths, _he_ doesn't look too broken up about it."

"I know. What if he's truly demented? And these poor girls didn't follow his instructions so he mutilated them? He's definitely staying up high on the list."

"Yeah, and I also added Paulo, because he doesn't know how to deliver Iced tea in a timely fashion."

Mac ducked his head to hide his smile. "You're really something, Crys."

"I am taking no prisoners, Mac. Somebody in this hot air balloon is going to pay for what was done to these girls, I promise you that."

Mac gripped her arm assuredly. "I know, Crystal. And they're gonna pay hard."


	6. Love triangle

**Chapter 6: love triangle**

Three days passed by and Mac and Crystal were both caught up in a flurry of fashion and melodrama, but not much closer to finding the model killer. Between model hissy fits, badgering between competitive designers, and Claude's thinly veiled insults and tirades for every employee, Crystal wanted to scream and tear the place down. Mac enjoyed himself despite the hectic atmosphere and the dark cloud of the case. He had grown used to working with Dani and her girls, though this agency was considered the 'big time.' He wasn't wrong about the swimsuit modeling, nor that they would immediately tan him up to toasty perfection and highlight his hair to portray the sun-kissed beach god they needed for various _Speedo _and swimming trunk adverts. He felt sorry for Crystal, who, in her Jodie character, and despite her quite beautiful makeover, had to endure bossy requests from himself and a barrage of patronizing insults from others. Mac tried to be easy on her, excusing her 'spaced-out' behavior. She quickly became the female Paulo, after the disgruntled errand boy never returned with Claude's lunch. However, Crystal's lemons didn't get soggy in Claude's Iced Tea. It tickled Mac to see the resentment flare-up in her eyes whenever they paired him off with the models in their swimsuits, though he pretended not to notice. He didn't want to hurt her, but it confirmed that she truly harbored strong feelings for him.

"Whatever happened to wearing swimsuits to _swim_ in?" She grumbled as they paraded around Mac in very revealing bikinis and hi-cut bathing gear.

After three sessions, Mac was done for the day, he quickly showered off the body oil and changed into comfortable jeans and a gray t-shirt, then met Crystal in a small café a few blocks from the Agency.

"What do you got for me, Crys?" He asked, as she passed him a yellow envelope.

"While you were having _fun, fun, fun, _in the fake California sun, I took a few discreet shots of our gal Stella, she appears to be very cozy with the janitor, Fred."

"That guy? He's a weirdo, I don't like the way he looks at the girls, but I did notice he's gaga for the receptionist. I'm surprised you caught them together, she barely gives him the time of day."

"I think everyone in there is a bit of a kook if you ask me…present company excluded. Maybe Stella changed her mind since _Claude,_ the one she really wants, ignores her every chance he gets."

"_Hmm._ I smell a huge love triangle brewing, you know what that means."

"Three motives for murder?"

"Yeah, but apparently they take it out on the models, not each other!" Mac grimaced.

Mac looked over the pictures as he sipped his coffee. In the shots, Stella was caught by the janitor's closet, talking to him and playing with his uniform, and later alone, furtively hunched over one of the shelves.

"What do you make of that?"

"Maybe she was getting some toilet paper?"

"Come on, Mac. You know, mix up some of those chemicals in that cleaning closet and you might have some odd concoction that would have an effect on those poor girls." Crystal pondered.

Mac stared at here with a small, proud smile. "You amaze me with your investigative skills, you just have this knack for making assumptions that are logical."

Crystal sat up taller and happier. "Thank you, Mac. That's very kind of you. Though I'm sure you already thought of it."

"Yeah, I did, but why take glory from you? Still, you remember what Stanley said, there was nothing of known origin found on the girls that would cause such drastic facial and skin disfigurement. If anything from the janitor's closet made it into their facial creams, I doubt they would have put it on."

"Hum, you're right. Now it's your turn. What did you find out?"

"Stella may be sweet on Fred, but she had a romantic past with Claude, and get this, it was at the same time that Dani was modeling for him too."

Crystal leaned closer, intrigued. _"Oooh, _and I remember Stella seemed a little tense when she realized Dani had referred you to the agency. She said Claude adored her."

Mac's gaze averted toward the front entrance and he saw Lindsey walk in sullenly. "I noticed that too. I badgered Dani to give me the real story and she admitted to a lot of rivalry in those days. Claude wasn't as prissy back then, he was quite the stud and had models eating out of his hand. Dani was different, she didn't make it to the top the _usual _way, and that intrigued him. She admitted to a few dates, but nothing too serious."

Crystalyn nudged Mac after noticing Lindsey. "What do you make of Miss Noir perfume?"

"We've talked, she doesn't really know anything, so I would cross her off the list…in fact I'm a little worried about her. I'm gonna go talk to her for a minute now, she looks upset."

"Sure. I'll go over my notes."

Mac plopped on the stool beside Lindsey as she sipped an espresso and glumly thumbed through a small portfolio.

"Hey, Lindsey! I saw the _Noir_ ads and they were hot! What's the matter? Aren't you excited?"

Lindsey shrugged. "Yeah, it's great and all, but did I tell you I really can't stand Claude?"

"You did mention he was exasperating."

"I thought I was doing okay, but apparently, everything about me is wrong! The arch in my eyebrows, the way my beauty marks are situated, and the fact that I have a slight astigmatism in my right eye, so he claims. He's impossible! I thought modeling would be fun and that you'd be supported, not mocked every step of the way."

Mac pitied her. "Claude _is_ rough, he found something wrong with every inch of me, but I don't really care. This is who I am, take it or leave it, and you need to have the same attitude also. I bet there are a lot of other agencies that would be willing to have you model for them. Why don't you try?"

Mac suddenly felt a strong impulse to make sure that Lindsey got as far away from Claude and the Jezebel Agency as quickly as possible.

Lindsey stared at him in disbelief. "Mac, you're _perfect_, he's just a nut job! He's handsome and all, but he needs to look in the mirror! Nobody is ever going to be good enough for him. He should just stick to dressing up Ken and Barbie, at least they won't talk back. I can't go to another agency right now. I'm under contract here for the rest of the year, and besides, Jezebel is one of the oldest and Claude is still the best."

"That doesn't mean you have to stay on and take this treatment from him. His antics have been bringing the Jezebel Agency down for years; I've researched the decline. Lindsey, tell me, are you sure modeling is what you truly want? What about the nursing?"

Lindsey finished off her drink and leaned her face in her hand. "You know, Mac, sometimes I feel like this is all a big waste of time. I mean, what is it really doing for anybody? It's just glorifying vanity and pushing clothes and products on people that they don't really wear or need. I don't mean to knock it, because obviously you love it, but, I just feel like I can be out there making a real difference in the world."

Mac smiled at her. "Ya know, Lindsey, you make a great point. If I were you, I'd go back to that first love. Everyone needs a nurse, it's demanding for sure, but it's all for the greater good and it saves lives."

Lindsey stared at him. "Wow, Mac. I didn't think you'd say that to me. I hope I didn't offend you."

Mac laughed and shook his head. _"Me?_ Not at all. I'm thinking about leaving the biz myself and going back to _my_ first love…_uh_…farming. Family owns a milk farm in Wisconsin, ya know. It's good, honest work and keeps ya fit and busy." He prattled on, hoping she bought it.

"Cool! I wouldn't have taken you for the farmer type, but I can definitely see you in cowboy mode…_nice."_ She smiled coyly. "I've got two days off, I'm really going to think about what you said. Something tells me I'll be getting on the train back to Connecticut by Friday and skipping the photo shoot."

Mac was compelled to give her a hug. "Good girl! I imagine your family would be happy, especially considering what happened to your friends."

Lindsey's expression darkened. "I know. The phone has been ringing off the hook. I'm planning to move by the end of the month. I don't like staying at my apartment since Ana died. I mean, the police checked it all and found nothing that would harm me, but just the fact that it happened there scares me."

"It must feel weird, I can understand."

Lindsey slid off the chair and patted his arm. "You're really a nice guy, Mac, so great to talk to and so easygoing. Not like those other guys in the Agency! You can't get them out of the mirror and all they brag about is themselves and their careers. You have substance."

Mac grinned at the compliments. "Thanks, Lindsey, I appreciate that."

Lindsey stared at Crystal across the way as she waited for Mac and rhythmically tapped her coffee cup and peered at her notes.

"I talked to her a little you know, when she wasn't being ordered around, and she's a really nice woman. I think she's _so_ pretty and the way she talks about you, _wow._ Jodie's not as dense as everyone thinks she is. Maybe you should give her a chance."

Mac stared in Crystal's direction, unable to control the little smile of admiration that played across his lips. "Ya think so?"

"Yeah, it may sound like a hopeless platitude, but sometimes the things we most want and need are staring us right and bright in the face, but we're too busy looking beyond to the dark unknown. My mom always tells me that, I think it's time I listened to her."

Mac stood up and escorted her to the door of the café. "Very wise, I'll keep it in mind. If I don't see you again, take good care of yourself, okay?"

Lindsey nodded happily. "I will and you too…and take care of _her_ also." She winked toward Crystal and with a wave, left the café.

"Absolutely." Mac whispered and returned to the table.

Crystal stood up. "That looked like it went well. What happened?"

"I think she's decided to go home and become a nurse after all. I kinda nudged her in that direction."

"If you were a female, I'd say you just didn't want the modeling competition, but I can tell something's on your mind about her."

Mac and Crystal left the café and went to the parking garage near the Agency to pick up her van. As they drove back to report to Dani, Mac explained his suspicion of Claude as the killer and his concern for Lindsey's safety.

"I just can't shake it, Crystal. He's a man with an obsession for perfection, if it's not up to his standards, then it might as well be _hideous,_ right?"

"All the signs point to him, but we need more time to figure it out. We're not the police, we're Outriders, we don't have to work under the gun here and we need all the proof we can get."

She parked near Dani's studio and they came up to the elevator. "How about this? I'll stick with Stella and Fred, and you stick with Claude. Something tells me the trains _will_ meet."

The elevator rang, but Mac pulled her back before she could get off. "That's a good plan. How are you doing lately, Crys?"

Crystal stared gently at him. "I'm fine, really. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but I'm hoping there's no hard feelings over what happened at the museum and that you don't feel…I don't know, scared?"

"I'm not scared. It was upsetting for a day, but I get over things quickly, and I know you spoke to Henry on my behalf. I told you not to do that. You could have gotten in serious trouble."

"He wasn't thrilled, but I'm still here, aren't I? I couldn't help it. I didn't want to feel any more like a heel, and with what I did, and what _could_ have happened, it still kinda shakes me up. I just want you to know Crys, for as much as it's possible, I'll have your back for now on."

Crystal smiled at him. "I don't doubt that, Mac. You do your best for everyone involved. That's a great quality. I can see why Dani didn't want to lose you."

Mac pulled her closer. "Thanks. Say, did I tell you that they did a fantastic makeover on you? _Not_ that there was anything wrong before."

Crystal bit her lip and drew her arms over his neck. "No, but you didn't have to say anything, your eyes did."

Mac leaned down until his forehead pressed to hers. "Right now, my lips want to say something."

"I don't want them to _say _anything, I want them to do something." She sighed.

Mac grinned and obliged her and they built up a slow kiss, before they could deepen it, the doors opened again and Dani poked her head in.

"I was wondering what was happening to my elevator. Come in, you'll never guess who called me!"

Mac and Crystal fell to attention and sauntered off the elevator a little embarrassed. Dani said nothing about catching them. She went to her desk and then faced them a little apprehensively, but not entirely unhappy.

"I just got a phone call from Claude Dupont. He gave me glowing praise for you, Mac. When you first told me he was there I was stunned, I thought he would never leave Europe. So, anyway, we got to talking about old times and our modeling days and he wants to take me out to dinner tonight…and I said yes!"

Crystal and Mac stared at her shocked, but Dani paced around. "I heard all the rumors and that he's supposedly a demon in the studio. I know him, it's really all an act, he does that to keep people intrigued, on their toes, and his popularity up. He always used to say _'bad press is better than no press.'_"

Mac folded his arms and shook his head. "_Demon_ isn't the word! He has these poor women bursting into tears every day. I'm ready to pound him one. Dani, I can't let you, he's too high on our suspect list."

"Suspect? You think Claude is the killer? I can't believe that. He's a little vain at times, but he was always harmless."

"Dani, you're talking about the old Claude from twenty…"

Dani coughed slightly and glared at Mac.

"Uhh, um…_fifteen_ years ago! He's not the same man." He stammered.

"Mac, I'm not marrying the man, it's just a little dinner to catch up from old times. Why do you always insist on getting involved in my personal affairs?"

Mac tossed up his hands. "I don't believe this! You're the one that called me at the crack of dawn to drag me into this modeling case, now that I tell you who the suspect is you're ready to wine and dine him!"

Crystal stepped between them. "Hold on, Mac! First of all, Dani is a grown, intelligent woman and can make up her own dating mind. Second, if you really believe that he's guilty then this could be a perfect opportunity to bait the man."

Dani marched to her set and started packing up her camera equipment. "Absolutely not. Do you both think I'm _stupid?_ I know where this case is leading. If I find anything suspicious about him, I'll tell you, but you are not going to have me wire-tapped. I want to just enjoy myself for the evening, _in private_, is that allowed?"

"Of course it is, Dani, but couldn't you find another old friend to meet up with?"

Crystal patted him to keep relaxed. "Dani, you're right, Mac shouldn't be getting involved in your like this. Come on, Mac, we'll have to report to Henry. Dani, enjoy your date."

"Thank you, Crystal, I'll try."

As they entered the elevator, Mac tried to plea one more time with Dani. "Can't you at least tell us where you're going tonight?"

"Mac, he didn't decide yet. It will be fine. I'm a big girl." Dani winked at him and the doors closed.

Mac wanted to slam them, but he calmed himself down and held his forehead. "Remind me again why I ever teamed up with that woman?"

Crystal rubbed his shoulders. "Oh, Mac, don't worry, I already put one of our new satellite tracers on Claude's car today. I knew you suspected him. We're not letting Dani out of our sight."

Mac gazed at her and laughed. "I knew I could count on ya! I have a little surprise for you too."

Crystalyn clapped her hands. _"Goody! _I love surprises!"

"I put a tap on Stella's phone at the reception desk and one on Claude's office phone."

Crystalyn grasped him and kissed his cheek. "That's awesome! How did you manage to do that?"

"Claude has a habit of fluttering in and out of his office for extended periods, so one time when he asked me to come in to reassess my 'make-over' and berate my looks again, I did it when he left me alone, no sweat!"

"Genius! And Stella's phone?"

"That took more planning, I waited until she took one of her Über long trips to the bathroom and installed it fast."

"Excellent! Oh wait a minute! Is _that_ what you were doing when I saw you pop up from under Stella's desk? Because she was coming straight at you and I diverted her."

Mac casually put his arm over her shoulder as they approached the vehicle. "Oh yeah! When you knocked over the water cooler. Smooth! Now I really know you got my back too. Thanks, Crystal."


	7. Dinner disaster

**Chapter 7: Dinner disaster**

Dani and Claude dined in a superb and exclusive French restaurant inside the Four Seasons Hotel, much to Crystal's dismay. It was not easy to park a black van without it being noticed along Madison Avenue. Mac promised her that he would talk to Henry about getting the CIA to spring them a new and fancier ride for these times.

"I feel like a crumb sitting in here eating Jewish Deli food while they feast on a three course cuisine."

"Stifle it and eat your pickle! I got you the whole sour and that acidic coleslaw you love. That's cuisine enough for ya." Mac flicked his hand at her as he adjusted his headphones.

Mac was very surprised at this subdued version of Claude, not under the fanatical stress of the Agency and as Dani told them, pretending to be a diva. This Claude oozed charm and sensuality; perhaps over-doing it and hoping his French background would woo her once again. Dani was too smart a woman to be taken in by it, though Mac couldn't help but wonder if she truly fell for these same charms as a young, impressionable model at Jezebel. Even though she didn't want to hear his insinuations, Mac made sure to brief Dani on all his and Crystal's suspicions regarding Claude, Stella and the rest of the suspects at the agency.

"Crystal, listen to this!"

Crystal put down her pastrami on rye and slid over to Mac's side, placing her headphones on. She soon made a gagging face and put her finger in her mouth.

-O-

"Dani, I still think about how you left me standing at the airport that morning, we were supposed to go to Paris together and take Europe by storm! I can never understand why you refused me."Claude pouted.

"Claude, you knew as well as I did that it wouldn't have worked out. We both realized we had entirely different goals…well, somewhat different. I was desperate to start my photography studies and had a great chance to work with some of the best. I knew modeling wasn't going to be my bread and butter, but I knew that it would pay off for you and it truly has."

"You could have studied with the finest in Europe! But! All that is in the past, we can still look to the future, can't we?"

"Surely." Dani replied as he stroked her hand. She gradually pulled it away and smiled, then raised her wine glass and sipped it. "Here's to a bright one."

-O-

Mac shook his head. "I knew her past with Claude was more than modeling partners. Dani can't lie to me."

"I sure wish we had visuals of this conversation."

"Just continue to use that big imagination of yours."

"Thank you, Mac. You're so complimentary."

"It's all part of _my_ charm." He winked. "Oh, listen, the conversation's turning now."

-O-

"You haven't changed very much since we modeled together. Still have those bejeweled green eyes and luscious year-round tan." Claude nearly purred.

"Why thank-you, it definitely comes from my Brazilian side."

"Ah yes! What was it, Brazilian, Scots and German, am I right?"

"Wow, your memory is still sharp as ever."

"I remember all my partners and clients and you were always a favorite, Dani. "Though I'm a bit disappointed."

Dani held her breath, waiting for the critique that she knew was bound to come. "You never did take my advice and try and narrow the bridge of your nose, so your eyes wouldn't seem so far apart. But nonetheless, they are still beautiful. Just beware of the tan." Claude raised his hand and stroked her cheek. "I can see it's starting to grow blotchy in places as the skin sags with age."

Dani moved her face away from his hand and sat up taller, and focused on her food.

"I'm _only_ thirty-seven, Claude."

"Exactly, there must be many things distressing you, I can see the lines around your mouth have deepened and the worry in your forehead is glaring."

Dani's eyes watered annoyed. "I'll have you know, I'm a widow as of late last year. My husband worked for the U.S Consulate and was killed in a surprise raid." She gulped, hoping he bought the story.

Claude stared carefully at her with a frown. "I'm very sorry to hear that. I had no idea you were even married. You have my deepest sympathies."

Dani took a breath and smiled. "How would you know? It's all right. We were only married a little over two years when it happened."

Dani rummaged through her red purse for a tissue and noticed a familiar dark tube of lipstick situated near the top. She gritted her teeth and pulled out the tissue to dab her eyes. She took a long sip of wine and spoke a little louder.

"So, Claude, I hear that _Stella_ is working as your receptionist. How is she doing?"

Claude rolled his eyes and ate more of his meal. "Stella is Stella. She refuses to take any of my beauty advice and insists on wearing that god-awful rocker haircut and bedazzled clothing. She is the first face people see when they walk into Jezebel and it's quite horrid. She used a hack plastic surgeon to try and fix her lazy eyes and they look as downtrodden as ever, on top of that, she's _slow._ She misses calls, forgets to write appointments and is always in the bathroom. Frankly, I've had it with her." He sighed disgruntled.

Dani wanted to laugh, but felt it would be inappropriate and catty. She couldn't hide the fact that she and Stella were very much at each others throats when they modeled with Claude, but Dani won out professionally and with Claude, personally. There were times Dani did feel pity for the woman, realizing Stella loved Claude to the point of obsession.

"Then why don't you just get rid of her? Hire someone fresh and young and energetic?" She questioned.

"Well…uh, I do owe her some favors, she _has_ stuck with me all these years, the sorry gal. So, Dani, tell me more about your return to the fashion world?"

Dani folded her hands excitedly. "It's going wonderfully since I have a full modeling crew to work with. I have to admit, I am very saddened now."

"Why?"

"Well, some of my models were planning to move on and I had hoped to find more from your Agency." She sipped more wine, hoping he didn't catch her in the lie.

"All you have to do is ask, Dani!"

Dani maneuvered her small purse closer toward Claude, but kept it on the edge of the table.

"Well, see, here's the thing. I had a bunch of headshots pass through and I really wanted three of them, perhaps you know these girls, Ana Ramirez, Sondra Smith and Rachel McGill?" She asked innocently, naming three of the victims.

Claude's expression darkened. "Oh yes, them…they were young amateurs really. That Ana, she couldn't be graceful if her life depended on it, and Sondra, well, her nose was just too wide and African, she was planning on a nose job at the time of her death, the smart girl. Rachel, well, she needed to drop about ten pounds before I could even begin to work her up to her potential…and she had too many freckles." He said hastily, but with usual his blunt demeanor.

"Oh, but I found them so beautiful! Magazine and catalog work is not runway. I was utterly horrified when I saw the papers and the news! Not only did _they_ die, but there were three others whose pictures passed over my desk that died too! Don't you find it strange that they all had the same symptoms? I sure did." She shuddered.

Claude seemed to grow hot around the collar. "I have been very traumatized by their deaths, but you know me, I don't let my sentiments interfere with my work. I still have an Agency to run and hundreds of other women and men to take care of, not to mention quenching their fears when this all came out. The Agency sent flowers and condolences to the families of course." He added quickly.

"That's kind of you." Dani's eyes glowed with intrigue and she leaned forward. "So, what do you think it was that killed them? I imagine the police are trying not to let this turn into a major health panic."

Claude calmly finished off his meal and wine. "What a topic to be discussing over dinner. Dani, if you don't mind, I'd rather not relive the last few months in regards to those girls. One after the other, and the police pounded down my office every time with the same fruitless questions and accusations, they harassed my staff, badgered my models! I've lost a lot of business. Perhaps it was an allergic reaction."

Dani pressed further. "That's some allergy! I don't think it's plausible that they all had the same one, do you?"

-O-

Crystal took notes of Claude's reaction and tone of voice. She glanced at Mac wryly. "She made us, Mac. You heard her go through the purse and then she moved it closer to Claude." She banged the table. "His arrogance and heartlessness kills me."

"I know. I don't know what Dani ever saw in this guy, but I'm proud of her, she's really hammering him! Oh, wait, he's asking for the check."

Crystal listened more carefully. "I don't think he has plans to end the date yet…he wants a night cap."

Mac set up the satellite tracer to Claude's car again and jumped in the front seat. "I'll drive this one. Looks like we'll be joining them, only we really shouldn't drink on the job."

"Look at the martini king giving advice." Crystalyn giggled.

"You know it's only Ginger Ale, right, Miss Mai Tai?"

"I'm sure you carry a bottle of _Schweppes_ around with you on every occasion."

They placed the headphones aside and waited for Dani and Claude to finally leave the restaurant, then took off five minutes after them and found themselves right back at the Jezebel Agency. Claude lived in an immaculate and showy penthouse on the top floor of the building. In the car-ride, the conversation shifted toward Claude's other pursuits in the fashion world. He was working with some of the leading chemists in the nation to create the perfect facial and body anti-aging cream that would also have the power to close 'manhole sized' pores and reduce redness and sun damage. He even gave Dani a full jar for herself.

Mac gripped the wheel tensely. "I'm not even going to let her touch that until we get it thoroughly tested."

Crystal immediately wrote it all down with a flourish. "No doubt about it, this just makes him even more guilty with a capital 'G.' you said so yourself, Mac, what if it was something the girls used that was contaminated? It could easily be this Jezebel cream he's concocting. Remind me not to take freebies from Claude either."

"I think it's already been used on us, Crystal, my skin hasn't felt this soft and supple in a while. I highly doubt the guy is gonna spoil the entire batch, that would be bad for business."

"_Hmm,_ I suppose. There was this great smelling stuff they used on my rub-down, maybe that was it."

"Mine was pretty odorless, maybe a hint of almond."

"I'm sure he's developing the male and female version."

Mac kept his focus on the streets and attempted to find parking closer to the building. "Look, I'm inclined to agree with you, Crys, but it's just too easy, don'tchya think?"

"It should always be this easy! Claude must have really been keeping this new product on the sly if the police made no mention of it. But he could have been handing out samples to the models, right?"

"Yes, but again, way too easy. He would have been caught already."

"Why do you like everything the hard way?" Crystalyn grumbled.

Mac widened his eyes and shrugged. "Because, it's more fun that way, I get more action, hey, pull over to that pizza shop."

"You're still hungry?"

"No, I have an idea."

-O-

Dani paced the length of Claude's massive penthouse and rubbed her eyes carefully from the tension headache building up. Claude had his back to her by his personal bar and was mixing drinks while he casually played modern jazz on his stereo system. The man loved color, particularly neon. He had door-length paintings of models in outlandish garb and mystical scenes and a few cityscape paintings and velvets with twinkling lights over the bridges and skyscrapers. Dani took a seat on his plush sofa and forced herself to relax. The news about his business venture with the creams was startling, and seemed to fit the puzzle surrounding the model deaths. She hoped she could conceal her apprehensions. Claude approached and handed her a red drink.

"Go easy now, this is Red death." He grinned.

"Excuse me?" Dani sat up quickly.

"Red death, or Red Russian, a lot of Vodka."

"Oh yes, one of your favorites."

_"Ahh,_ your memory isn't so bad either. I remember you preferred the Cosmopolitans."

"I'm open to change." She sipped it carefully and nearly choked. "That's very strong, Claude. Are you trying to get me drunk?"

Claude shifted closer to her. "I guess that's the general idea, yes."

Dani took another sip and then placed it on his contemporary and shiny black coffee table, which was garnished with all the latest fashion magazines, spread out like a fan.

"Well, you sure keep up to date, Claude."

"That's how I stay on top of the business." He said huskily. He drew himself upon the couch and leaned over, grazing her neck with a kiss. Dani tilted her head and then reached for her drink again, but quickly put it down, realizing she had two glasses of red wine at dinner.

"So, Claude, really, why do you think anyone would want to hurt those poor girls? I just can't get it out of my mind, since I'm so involved in the work."

Claude retreated to his bar to pour another drink for himself. "Dani, you barely touched yours."

"I…I don't want to get too jazzed, it makes me very sleepy."

"Oh, that's quite alright."

Dani caught his moody dark eyes linger on the doorway to his bedroom and she glanced and noticed a giant King sized bed with silk and satin dark purple sheets. She immediately turned her attention to the terraces.

"You have a lovely penthouse, and a unique flair for decorating. I can tell this is _all_ you."

Claude laughed. "Flamboyant, but _not_ feminine."

Dani scooted over when he sat down again even closer. "Claude, you're avoiding my question."

"Dani, why must you talk of such horrible things again? It's a beautiful night. We should enjoy it. You know my terrace has a spectacular view of the sunrise." He hinted and stroked her knee.

Dani moved aside and then stood up. "Claude, you're avoiding the issue. Don't you want to know what happened to those girls?"

"I already know! They were stripped of whatever beauty they had with some horrible disease that ate at their skin."

"Not to mention their vital organs!"

Claude rose up alongside her, flustered. "Dani, you always get riled over nothing."

Dani swung around in surprise. "Nothing! You call the deaths of these girls, _nothing?_ Wow! I am very glad I never went to Europe with you. I can see the kind of man you really are." She seethed and reached for her purse, but he grasped her arm tightly.

"Dani, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so cruel. It came out wrong."

"Oh it did. Everything you say comes out wrong and insulting and demeaning." She huffed. "Let go of my arm, I would like to go home."

"But it's so late! You must stay the night!"

"Claude, you're hurting me."

Claude's grip tightened and he pulled her close to him, giving her a full kiss on the lips. Dani jerked her head away but he grasped her chin and turned her face back toward him.

"If you didn't still want me, Dani, you wouldn't have come up to my apartment. Stop playing games. I don't care for games. I've missed you Dani!"

"Liar! You've been in New York for five years and we barely spoke to each other save for business arrangements."

"We both lead very busy lives, and besides, you said you were married and always traveling anyway. So it's better I didn't pursue you."

Dani's anger subsided for a moment and she tugged herself out of his hold. She marched toward the front door but he chased her and blocked her exit dramatically.

"You can't leave! I need you, Dani I'm…I'm in trouble! It's Stella, I believe she wants to kill me." He blurted out. "She's an insanely jealous woman! That's why I won't fire her, I don't know what kind of trouble she'd make for me."

Dani did a double take at this sudden admission, but she didn't soften her resolve. "That's _your_ problem! Stella's wanted you since day one, but you never gave her the time of day…or have you? Yes, I remember now, you did, and broke her heart, right? Stella wouldn't try and kill you; she's madly in love with you, though I can't understand how! Excuse me!"

Claude lunged and shoved her away from the door. "Please Dani, stay, we'll talk!"

"If you don't let me go, I'll call the police! I'll scream!" She shouted, hoping the people on the other end of the lipstick heard her.

The doorbell suddenly rang, startling them both. In a rage, Claude swung it open to see a sloppily dressed young man with a red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, darkened brown tinted glasses and a bushy dark mustache. He was holding a steaming pizza box.

"Hey, yo, hey, I don't mean ta interrupt the foreplay, but I gotta pizza delivery for ya. Get it while it's hot, ya know?" The man garbled in a thick Brooklyn accent.

"Claude looked on disgusted. "You have the wrong apartment. Who let you up here anyway?"

Claude attempted to close the door as Dani made a run for it and the pizza man thrust out his arm and stopped him cold, nearly splintering the door.

"Lookit! This is da right addy, you're Claude Dupont, and this is the only penthouse up 'ere. I ain't leavin' till ya give me my dough." He said more irritably and stared at Dani, smirking. "Hey, who's the chick? She's hot, ya know. I bet she's hungry, hey lady, come 'ere, have some pizza." He wagged his arm toward her and grasped her wrist, pulling her out the doorway before Claude could react.

Dani glared at the man and then immediately fell silent. She wanted to shout for joy. She quickly pressed the elevator button. Claude snarled and tried to follow but the pizza guy blocked his every move.

"I ain't movin, till ya pay me, pal!"

Claude dug into his pocket and tossed him a five-dollar bill. "Get out of my way! Dani, don't you leave me! Don't get on that elevator!" He threatened.

"I'll do whatever I want, Claude. You just stay far away from me!"

"You leave me and I'll…I'll fire that model you sent! Don't think I won't!"

"Go ahead, I'm sure he already knows what a tyrant you are, he'd be _glad_ to leave." She said, struggling to keep the elevator doors from closing.

"_Yo!"_ The pizza man shouted angrily. "If you don't give me the rest of my frickin' money, _I'll_ be fired! That's twelve bucks for a large pie with three toppings. This side of town don't come cheap. And I wanna a nice tip!" He threatened.

"Move it, you loser! I'll show you a tip!" Claude drew back a weak fist to throw him a punch, but the pizza man ducked and then kneed him in the stomach and pushed him back into the penthouse. Claude couldn't move from the pain and just slammed his door in the man's face. "Go away, you hooligan! I never called for that food!" He gasped.

"That wasn't nice, mistuh! I'm outta here and I'm takin' my pizza wit me!"

He ran into the elevator and Dani finally let the doors close. Mac refrained from speaking and kept his disguise on, putting a finger to his lips and motioning to Dani that there were hidden cameras inside the elevator. She nodded and grasped the handles relieved.

"Smells good, lots of garlic. I like that." She sighed.

"Yo, garlic is good for da heart, my mother always said so. Smellin' pizza always makes me hungry, ya know? New York pizza is da best!" He replied. "I'm gonna dig into this."

Once outside, Crystal immediately pulled up with the van and Mac and Dani jumped into the back and sped away. They failed to notice a lone figure standing and watching in the shadows of the awnings. The figure gazed up at the penthouse with a look of hatred and then immediately turned aside and walked promptly to their car. They had been tailing the black van for a while tonight and made some loose connections over who was who. The black van crew was too close to finding out what they'd done, and they had to be stopped at any cost.


	8. Lindsey's story

**Chapter 8: Lindsey's story**

"If that man sends me one more bouquet I'm going to plant them on his grave!" Dani Reynolds practically screeched. She quickly scanned the elaborate card and then promptly tossed it in the trash. As she was about to dump the white, pink and red roses, Mac grabbed her arm.

_"Wait! _The guy is smitten and apologetic. These babies are expensive, at least put them in water and by the window, this studio can really use some splashes of color."

Dani growled and shoved the bouquet in his arms. "Fine, Mr. Green thumb, you take care of it, and maybe you'd like to have dinner on top of the Empire State Building with him while you're at it?"

"Well if he's paying, why not?" He chuckled.

"Mac, you're ridiculous! I don't have time for Claude and his fake apologies. If I ever lay eyes on that creep again I will…"

"You've already used _'kill him' _a few times, you gotta get more original, Dani."

_"Arrh!_ I'll castrate him six ways to Sunday!" She fumed and stormed off to set up her cameras for the next series of portraits.

Mac winced, and then put the roses in the last available vase he could find, and set them by the window. It was two days since he played a Brooklyn pizza boy and rescued Dani from the clutches of Claude Dupont, and two days since anything substantial happened with the tragic case he and Crystal were working on. Mac was frustrated and feeling at a dead end. He considered telling Henry to give it up and kick it back to the NYPD where it belonged. He stared out the window at the heavy mid-day traffic, trying to come up with any connections, and then a thought finally clicked. He ran to Dani and jumped in front of the camera just as she flashed a test shot.

"Oh, that's swell Mac, your blue checkered chest will look great on the new covers. Where's the fire?"

"Dani, I have an idea. When Claude had you hostage that night he got desperate and started yammering on about how Stella wanted to kill him…or so he thought."

Dani laughed snidely. "Well, I've just joined her club."

"No, he was serious, he called her insanely jealous and was afraid of the trouble she'd cause."

"What about it? That man deserves whatever is coming to him."

"Okay, the man is a sleaze, but I really don't think he's the killer anymore. Dani, you need to call Claude up and tell him to get down here and explain to you exactly what he meant by that."

Dani let out burst of air and stared at Mac like he had four heads. "Are _you_ insane? I don't want that man within fifty feet of me and you want me to bring him here and…"

"Dani! It's for _official _business, and you won't be alone. Henry will be with you. You tell Claude that Henry is an old friend that can somehow help with his situation, and then you pump the guy for everything he knows. Show him the model autopsy photos. He obviously can't see me or Crystal, but if we're gonna find out about Stella, it's the best way."

"Can't you just follow the woman?"

"I thought of that, but it's too risky, I don't want her to catch on."

Dani laughed. "Stella never catches on to anything, otherwise she would have figured out that Claude despises her a long time ago."

Mac shook his head. "You women are awfully catty. You hate the guy, but you're still sore at her for liking him too, make up your mind."

Dani gaped at him, then turned red faced and continued adjusting her camera lens. "Mac, go do what you gotta do, set up the meeting and let me know when."

-Oo-

When Mac returned home, he was just about to lie down for a mid-day nap when his phone rang shrilly. He banged his hand around the end table and finally picked up the receiver.

"This is Mac."

"Mac…Mac, I'm so glad I found you home! I'm…I'm sorry to call you like this, I got your number from Stella's Rolodex."

Mac sat up tall upon hearing the familiar voice. "Lindsey? I though you went back to Connecticut, what's wrong? You sound upset."

"No, I couldn't go back home yet, I_, uh_, I had some things to take care of and I haven't broke the news to Claude yet. I was wondering if you could come by my place. I really need to talk to you." She nearly begged.

Mac swung his legs off the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, Lindsey, that's fine but maybe it would be better if we just met in the coffee shop."

_"No! _I mean…please, Mac. I'm…I'm afraid to leave my apartment, I think I'm being followed and I don't know what to do."

Mac stood up hastily. "Followed? Do you know by who?"

"I'm not sure, it's definitely a guy, but I can't really say who he is, I just get a weird feeling. Please Mac, come…and…and bring Jodie. I know you probably feel uncomfortable that I'm asking you this, so it's okay. I could use a woman to confide in too now that my friends are gone." She added quickly.

Mac felt sorry for her. "Okay, just give me your address and we'll be there in about an hour."

Lindsey gave him her address and phone number. "Thank you so much, Mac! You're the best, you know that?"

"No, I'm not, I'm just helping a friend."

"You barely know me, but you're being so nice, and not like a jerk either. A lot of guys would have loved the fact that I invited them over, but not you, you're truly concerned about me."

Mac felt himself blush. "Yeah, I am, especially with all this horrible stuff happening. Okay, Lindsey, lock up tight, and stay put. When I get there, I'll knock and say my name."

"Great! I'll be here!"

When Mac hung up he called Crystal, but she wasn't at home. He decided to try Jezebel studios, even though it was Sunday. She did mention she had left some items behind and needed to get them. To his surprise she answered the main phone line.

"Crys, what are you doing over there? Where's Stella?"

"Stella's been MIA since Friday, Mac, and she doesn't work Sundays anyway. Claude begged me to stay and man the phones. I'm bored to tears. What's going on, tell me _something_ significant is happening? I'm just sitting here watching Fred restock the closet and mop up the floors. He keeps looking at me weird. It's getting on my nerves."

Mac explained the phone call from Lindsey and Crystal agreed to go. They hung up and she left a note for Claude saying that she was out to lunch and then she transferred the line to his office.

"That fool doesn't deserve to be told in person." She noted, and left the building toward Lindsey's apartment.

Mac met Crystal a few blocks from the apartment and knocked on the back door of the black van. Crystal swung the door open and he climbed inside.

"Thanks. What do you think?"

"What do you mean? You look great, a little tired, but great. You gotta love those sexy tan boots."

Mac rolled his eyes. "About _Lindsey._ Do you think she's a target?"

"Hard to say, I mean, they killed all her poor friends, but it was done very quickly. I checked for any serial killer patterns, and I think our perp would have gotten to her by now. But besides the fact that they were all models exclusively for Jezebel, there's nothing to really go on. I'm surprised she called you like this, you must have left a really big impression on her at the coffee shop."

"I just gave her a little home grown advice, I thought she'd be back home with her family safe and sound by now."

"Those young-uns never listen to their elders, do they?"

"Nope. That's why they get themselves in trouble. Ready to roll?"

"Yeah."

They jumped from the van and strolled toward the building. The neighborhood wasn't the greatest, and Crystal made sure to secure all the alarms and special locks on the van. As they passed a decrepit red-bricked building three blocks before Lindsey's apartment, Mac pointed out the vine and weed covered cemetery almost hidden on the side of it.

"Will you look at that? Must be at least two centuries old, probably a landmark. I haven't seen these around in a while."

"Yeah, they're still out there. Who in the past knew it would eventually be surrounded by huge buildings? It's pretty quaint and peaceful on this block still. Looks like this building is abandoned, see the eviction notices? There's tape blocking the doors."

"Too bad, but a lot of these buildings are in pretty lousy shape anyway and not livable, there's a lot of structural damage around it."

They came in front of Lindsey's apartment and went inside. Lindsey lived on the fourth floor.

"And of course, the elevator is broken." Crystal sighed.

"I can use the exercise." Mac said and bustled up the stairwell. As they reached the last staircase the silence was shattered by Lindsey's scream and glass smashing. Mac and Crystal broke into a run and raced to her door. Mac pulled his gun from behind his back and waved Crystal away as he poised to kick the door.

"Lindsey! It's Mac! I'm coming in!"

"Mac, help me! _Paulo!_ He's trying to kill me!" She screamed, her voice becoming muffled.

Mac gave the door one rapid kick by the lock and it burst open. Lindsey was on the bed struggling with a young and wiry Spanish man; he had her pinned down by her arms and was screaming at her in Spanish.

"_How could you? How could you!"_ He shouted over and over, while sweat and tears poured down his rabid face. He glared at Mac and then released his hold on Lindsey and sprinted toward her open window. Mac lunged for him but he was too fast and ran down the fire escape.

"I got her, Mac, go get him!" Crystal shouted and she helped Lindsey off the bed.

Mac jumped out the window and nearly tumbled down the first flight of stairs.

"Oh God, Mac! Be careful!"

Mac came up and clamored after the guy, with his gun at the ready. Paulo ran like a frightened Jackrabbit through the side yards of the tenements, nearly leaping over the brick walls. Mac was hot on his trail and scaled them easily.

"Paulo, stop! _¡Alto! ¡Alto!" _He called out, but didn't want to shoot, in case a stray bullet hit someone.

Paulo jumped over another brick wall and rushed through the old cemetery. He sprinted over the headstones. However, his foot struck a tilted headstone sticking up halfway and he fell forward with a loud yell. Mac was behind him instantly and caught him before his head made crushing contact with a tall grave marker. Mac threw Paulo on the soft dirt face up and pounced upon him, keeping a knee close upon his chest. He kept his gun in hand and shook him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Why were you trying to kill Lindsey? It was you all along, wasn't it? You killed all those models!" He accused him through gritted teeth.

Any defiance Paulo had vanished and he became a simpering mess, speaking in broken English. Mac decided to speak to him in Spanish.

"What did you do? How did you kill those girls? I just saved your life, amigo, now you're gonna tell me everything I wanna know or else you'll _wish_ the police had caught you instead of _me!"_ He said in his most threatening tone.

Paulo's dark eyes widened frightfully. "It wasn't me! I didn't kill anyone, I wouldn't kill Ana! _Not my Ana!"_ He nearly bawled.

Mac's grip loosened and he tried not to show his confusion. "What do you mean, _my Ana_?"

"I wouldn't hurt her! You got the wrong person! I'm not the killer! You let the real killer free!"

-Oo-

Lindsey calmed down and begged Crystal not to call the police. She went to her stove and prepared two glasses of Iced tea. "Please Jodie, don't do it, I don't want to press charges."

"Are you kidding me? Lindsey, he tried to kill you! Paulo was probably the killer all along and that's why he came after you."

Lindsey adamantly refused and put tea before Crystal. "I…I just can't yet. Give me a moment to collect myself, okay? Besides, are you going to explain to them why a make-up artist assistant and a male model are packing revolvers?"

Though Crystal never pulled her piece, she must have seen it on her holster. Lindsey stared hard at Crystal. "You two aren't what you say you are. You must be working on solving the murders, but you're not cops, otherwise the place would be swarming with them already."

Crystal let out a deep breath and took a long gulp of the cold, sweet tea. "Okay, you made us, I can't say what we are, but we're not cops. _We are here to help,_ and if you can tell us anything…" Crystal's words dropped off in mid-sentence when a woozy feeling enveloped her and her vision doubled…then tripled. Lindsey stood over her and put a tight hand on her shoulder when she tried to stand up.

"Where are you going, Jodie? Please stay with me, I'm _afraid_ to be _alone."_ She said mockingly.

Crystal felt like the room was spinning. Her breathing felt labored. "You…you slipped me a cherry meth, didn't you?"

"I prefer to call it liquid ecstasy, but yeah, you never saw that coming, did you?"

Crystal's vision was failing her and she rubbed her eyes and wobbled around on the chair, sinking low. "I should…should have…known…it was you! I didn't trust…trust you…from the begin…you killed them!"

"It's a good thing your hot partner was so gullible. I suspected he wouldn't be quick to suspect an innocent girl like me."

Crystal made a weak grab for Lindsey, then fell onto the floor and passed out. Lindsey laughed and quickly called the studio with three rings. A man answered.

"Hello, Fred. It's me. Yeah, I need you to hurry up and get over here. I have the woman. You have to help me put her where I told you. Hurry up, in case Mac comes back here. I have to tell him she left here, but didn't say where she was going. No, _I don't know where Stella is, _I'm sure she's fine, probably home in her bubble bath, downing wine and popping ludes as usual." Lindsey said impatiently and shook her fist at the phone. "It's almost over, I was going to try and go after the photographer and her girls, but that would have been overkill…_literally. _I'll get to Dani Reynolds soon enough. For now, I'm good with this one. Mac's sweet on her anyway…no, he's out chasing Paulo; he'll have his hands full for a while with that _Tonto. _No, Paulo has no clue it was me or you. I don't know what Ana saw in him, he was cute and all, but that's about it. _What?_ Don't tell me to shut up, Fred! Just get over here and do what you're supposed to do or so help me, I will ruin your pathetic life!"

Lindsey slammed the phone. She calmly walked to the sink, put on rubber gloves and scrubbed Crystal's glass of Iced tea. She went about cleaning around the dining table and removing the fingerprints. As she worked carefully, she thought of how easy it was to get rid of the other girls, her competition. A bunch of self-indulgent divas they were. She wanted to be their friends, she tried, but they pushed her aside. Apparently she wasn't good enough for their little clique. Ana was the only one who gave her the time of day, so it was harder to make the kill. Still, she made a decision. The entire fashion world had to pay for their indulgences. She hated it all.

Lindsey's mother Janet was once upon a time one of Claude's most beautiful and talented models. She had a heart of stone and treated Lindsey as if she were a pebble or glass in her shoe her whole life. Lindsey never understood why, maybe because she didn't share her fair haired, blue-eyed looks. Her mom constantly left her alone for days on end while she partied hard with her fashion friends and came home smelling foul. Many nights she would bring the party back with her, and when Lindsey was old enough, forced her to join in and have fun too.

Janet sometimes dragged Lindsey along on her escapades when she couldn't find babysitters who didn't want to stay overnight at the apartment. Claude didn't remember Lindsey from her childhood, but she remembered him, and how he made grand promises to her mother and seduced her, only to go traipsing after the next pretty model that came along. He was a rotten human being and Janet never told Lindsey that he was also her father.

Lindsey imagined how wonderful it was going to be when Claude's empire crumbled for good and he was implicated with Paulo for all the murders. Fred, the part-time botanist, made sure to leave the evidence hidden in Claude's office. The fool did everything for the love of that dumb ugly buffoon, Stella. It was too bad that Stella caught on to their scheme with Claude's body lotions. The dimwit couldn't make heads or tails of it, but it was too late, she had found the evidence. Lindsey had to get rid of her, but she didn't dare tell Fred. Once Fred did what he had to do with Mac's girl, Lindsey would be rid of him too, and then, she laughed wily out loud, he and Stella could be together for eternity.

She went back to the woman and dragged her across the floor near the door. She dug into her pockets and pulled out her wallet.

"Crystal _Delancey_…what do we have here? Are you and Mac like Mr. & Mrs. Smith? A husband and wife spy team?" Lindsey's expression froze when she saw her official ID. The woman was a bonafide CIA agent. _"Damn!_ _Damn!_ If you are, than that means Mac is too!" She seethed. This crime was getting more difficult by the moment, but she couldn't lose her senses. She stole her gun and then hurriedly wrapped Crystal in a blanket.

"Sorry I had to do this, _Jodie_! You've been kind, but you guys were getting way too close. I knew you were phonies. Too bad you didn't figure out I was one also."


	9. Twisted motives

**Chapter 9: Twisted motives**

Mac strolled and talked calmly with Paulo as they headed toward the black van. Paulo now knew better than to make any sudden moves or try to run away again. He had officially dubbed Mac 'El Bruto.' When they came to the van Mac swung open the door and shoved him inside. Mac jumped in after him and slammed the door shut.

"Okay, señor! Now we're really gonna talk. _En español ó inglès?"_

"I'll speak _ingles_ for you, Bruto. Your Spanish is _too_ proper. Look, you don't get it; I'm not the killer! No way! Ana was my girlfriend; I _loved_ her, why would I do that to her or her amigas? I found out from her family at the wake that she died of some kind of poison! I don't know how to get poison, not one that does damage like that, man! We…we couldn't even have an open casket." Paulo sank onto the red beanbag in the corner and wept. Mac's stomach knotted. He truly felt bad for the kid.

"Relax Paulo, here, have a drink. Cool off." Mac tossed him a can of coke from a cooler. Paulo hesitated.

"It's not spiked. Look, I'm not going to hurt you, Paulo. You just have to trust me."

"Trust you? I don't even know you!"

Mac ran a hand through his hair and glanced at him sternly. "Trust that I am on top of this case and the killer _will_ be caught."

"Then what are you hanging around for? Go catch the killer! It her! It's Lindsey!" Paulo snapped open the can and chugged it.

"How do you know that, kid? If My partner and I didn't show up you could have murdered an innocent woman."

"I know because she's a jealous bruja that's why! Ana told me. She never felt comfortable in that apartment with her. She knew, man, she knew something was up with her. I was going to move Ana out of there to be with me, we were already planning it when she died. Lindsey's crazy, man! She ain't right in the head!"

Mac glared at him. At this point, he didn't know what to think. Lindsey probably should have gone into another career…_acting._ "Maybe she is nuts, but I just stopped _you_ from going to the slammer for a revenge killing."

Mac twirled in his chair and pulled out surveillance photos he had of Claude and Lindsey and the others. He couldn't have solid proof without a medical test, but he felt it in his gut that Lindsey was Claude's daughter. They had similar expressions, arched brows, dark features and a genetic giveaway, the same earlobes. It was something he picked up on after talking with Lindsey in the diner, but he didn't share it with anyone else.

Mac had also done a little personal investigating into Lindsey's background; all the _Lindsey Brewsters_ listed in Connecticut were _not_ the model. When tapping Stella's phone line, he found a folder with old photos shoved in the back of her desk. Mac, ever nosy, wanted to go through it to see if there were young modeling pictures of Dani. He remembered seeing one of Claude and a gorgeous pale-blonde woman with long, curly hair. Stella stood off to the side, with a forced and disgruntled smile as Claude posed with his arms wrapped around blonde. The image was very cozy. The back of the photo read_ 'Claude Dupont with his favorite gal-pals, Janet Brewster and Stella Nicholls, NYC, 1967._'

The clues started coming together for him after taking Dani home from Claude's apartment. There was the photo of the blonde woman with the name of Brewster. In regards to the murders, only _Jezebel_ models were targeted, where this same Janet once worked. Lindsey hated Claude and made no big effort to hide it when she first spoke to Mac at the studio. The models who died were part of the same clique as Lindsey. Crystal's instincts had been right all along. Lindsey couldn't be trusted.

The police were currently cracking down hard on the agency and there was a rumor that _Jezebel_ was going to be shuttered for a long while. Pinning the murders on Claude would be the perfect way for Lindsey to get back at him. It was her sick and twisted way of showing him what his utter lack of parental affection had done to both their lives. Lindsey Brewster was really the only suspect who could be adequately tied to all the murdered girls. Mac put the photos away and swung around in the rolling chair.

"Paulo, as volatile as you are, I know you're not the killer. I saw the autopsy photos and spoke to the Medical examiner. The girls did not have marks of abuse on them, only skin and organ damage from the toxins used to kill them. It's as if they died by their own hand. Man, I know I've seen this type of poison case before! I just can't place it." Mac slammed the table frustrated. It would no doubt come to him long after the case ended.

"How will you prove that it wasn't me? These cops are looking to pin the murders on the first dupe they get, who better than a Latino guy that already has a rap sheet and was dating a victim!"

"Well whose fault is that if they suspect you? You've tainted your rep."

"Easy for you to say, Bruto!"

"Can the 'Bruto' stuff, I'm not a brute, or else you'd be beaten to a pulp instead of drinking cokes. My name is Mac."

"Big Mac, huh? Listen up, _Mac,_ you're a handsome white guy, they'd never suspect any of _your_ race if they can find a minority. You know that!"

"Don't pull the race card with me, pal. Do the crime, pay the time, _and _suffer the stigma. They'd hardly suspect females either…but now I think I do."

"If you're thinkin' it's Lindsey, you better be sure, because I am."

"I _am_ sure…well…at least ninety percent. You attempted to strangle Lindsey forcibly. So, poisoning with skin creams is definitely not your style. There would have been DNA evidence or other incriminating markings on the bodies and possibly signs of struggle. The models were unwitting victims because they used Claude's tainted goop and it must have done the damage over night while they slept."

Mac jumped up and pushed open the door. He put a strong grip on Paulo's shoulder and shoved him forward. "Get outta here and take better care of yourself, Paulo. Keep a cool head. I know you're hurting. I know how it feels to lose someone you care about."

Paulo eyed him warily. "Do you? How?"

Mac sighed. "My girlfriend was murdered last year. Believe me, it still hurts. I went gung-ho for revenge too, but it got me busted. You can't take the law into your own hands. If I find you involved in this again, you're going straight to jail. Trust me, I can pull any strings I want to." Mac warned.

Paulo jumped from the van, his temper calmed. "Sorry man. Listen, I know you're not a cop, and you don't wanna turn me in because then you'll have to blow whatever cover operation you got goin' on here. But whoever you are, give my girl some justice! Give all of them justice!"

The young man sprinted out of sight. Mac slid behind the wheel. He was about to turn the key when a sense of dread swept over him. He ran from the car and back in the direction of Lindsey's apartment. In all the commotion, he had nearly forgotten that he left Crystal behind with her.

-Oo-

"Look, Dani, Mr. Towler, I've already told you all I know about this horrible case. I want my lawyer and I want him now!"

Henry sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was in his office and had Dani meet him and Claude there after Dani voiced her misgivings about bringing Claude to the studio.

"Mr. Dupont, you are _not_ under arrest, so you don't need a lawyer. We just needed to confirm a few things about the model murders to aid the investigators. Would you _like us_ to get the police involved?" Henry motioned for the phone. "All I have to do is say the word."

_"No!_ Not them again. Why does this all matter to you, Dani?"

Dani stared at him steely eyed. "Because this mayhem revolves around my career and I need to protect my models from the maniacs at _Jezebel!_ Last night you tried to tell me that Stella was out to get you, why did you say that?"

Claude nervously dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a long blue envelope. "A few days ago I found this slipped under my door. It's typed so I don't know who wrote it. Only Stella could sound so desperate."

Dani looked it over confused and passed it to Henry. "This is ominous! Why didn't you just take it to the police and get it dusted for fingerprints?"

"Like I said, I'm tired of dealing with them. I'm a very important personage in the modeling world, Dani. You know that. I've gotten all sorts of oddball threats in my lifetime. Do you think I have time to worry over all of them? Obviously I'm still alive to tell them. I had a friend check it for me, and it's clean. Whoever wrote it used gloves."

Henry read over the letter grimly. "Didn't you stop and think that this could be related to the murders? Listen to this carefully. '_All I ever wanted was for you to acknowledge me, to tell me you loved me and mean it. I've endured hardships for years without you, but I've come to realize that it was all your fault. Now you are going to pay. Death for you is so trite. I want you to suffer for a long time.' _Claude, this is no joke or vague threat! This is evidence in an ongoing investigation. I could have you charged for obstructing justice."

"You certainly should!" Dani spoke up, circling Claude. "After how he treated me last night and not to mention how he treats everyone who crosses his path. He's a demon."

Claude grasped at his hair. "_Dani!_ Last night was a mistake, I was getting drunk, and I was needy and you are still one of the most beautiful women I could _never_ get again. So I'm a gigolo, so what? I'm not your killer if that's what you're both implying! I know Stella must have written that. She's always wanted me."

Dani crossed her arms angrily. "Stop flattering yourself. It's tiresome."

"Mr. Dupont, you better hope that we can't prove otherwise." Henry noted, rising from his chair. "You're free to go, but if I were you, I'd take this note very seriously _and _watch your back."

Claude jumped from the seat and hurried to the door. "Keep it, find this person and throw away the key, fry them, do whatever needs to be done. I don't deserve this kind of harassment!"

Dani held back a scathing retort and marched to the window, keeping her focus on the traffic. The world revolved around Claude Dupont. Never mind the murdered girls and their grieving families, or his models at the studio who were living in fear and wondering if they would be targeted next. It was no use to argue the point.

Henry glared at him. "Will I be hearing from your lawyer? Because I can have people do certain investigations into all your _Jezebel_ and personal accounts…in fact, I've already done it, we're about halfway there, have you been involved in illegal stock trading perhaps?"

Claude froze and plucked at his purple tie. He straightened up and faced them. A twitchy grin flitted across his lips.

"Who said anything about me calling my lawyer, Mr. Towler? I just demand justice for these poor, innocent models. They would have been big stars! I would have made them supermodels if given the chance. Dani, would you…"

Dani put her hand up, but refused to look at him. "Have a nice life, Claude."

Claude nodded fretfully and left the building as fast as he could. Dani grinned at Henry. "Where did you come up with that one? We're not investigating his finances."

Henry chuckled. "I know, I just threw it out there, and it looks like my guess was right. The police investigations will figure that out eventually."

Dani took a seat and poured a small drink. "And _Jezebel _will finally go to the dogs. Have you heard from Mac or Crystal?"

"No, I tried to call the van phone, but there's no answer. I'm sure they're getting the job done. No need to start panicking."

Dani gazed out of Henry's window again at the setting sun. "Not yet anyway."

-Oo-

Lindsey and Fred worked quickly, dragging Crystal into the back of Fred's pick-up truck. They drove a few blocks up to the abandoned red-bricked building with the centuries old cemetery. When they entered the dusty building, Fred carried Crystal to a small room in the back where in the center laid a simple pine box, a coffin. He shoved her inside. Lindsey paced the larger room giddy.

"Hurry up, you imbecile! Somebody is going to come. I need to get back to my apartment before Mac comes there. He's gonna figure out something's wrong." She demanded.

"She's in, she's in! I worked hard digging that grave last night, Lindsey."

"Oh yes…that one, well, there's been a little change of plans, I kinda used it already." Lindsey coyly twisted her foot and smiled at him tartly.

Fred gaped at her then ran to the cemetery. He noticed the grass strewn and the soil compacted loosely in front of a crumbling headstone from the early nineteenth century. He ran back inside to Lindsey.

"Wait a minute here. If this grave isn't for this chick, then who's in there?"

Lindsey tossed her head back with a laugh then cupped her mouth and shouted _"HEY STELLA!"_ She burst into a deranged fit of giggles. Fred's entire form shook and he cursed her. He ran with his hands out, ready to tear at her throat. Lindsey rushed backwards and pulled out Crystal's gun. Fred stopped short.

"Don't you touch me! Stella found the formula because you left it inside your janitor closet. Now go get the gasoline and light this place up fast! Either way, you're gonna go down for everything. You were the one who mixed up the damn stuff! I can pin it all on you. Nobody is gonna think I did anything wrong. I'm practically a victim, I could have been one." She wagged the gun as he ignored her warnings and inched closer.

"Stay back! I'll tell them everything! How you stalked poor Stella and obsessed over her so much that you had to have her _or else._" She threatened.

"That's a rotten lie!"

"Is it? Stella barely noticed you. And why should she? You're a dirty janitor. She wanted the all-powerful Claude! She always did, but he was too busy fooling around with my mother and ignoring me to notice!" Lindsey seethed. "Now go light those papers and rags in the corner!"

Fred hung back, watching how Lindsey's attractive face suddenly turned beastly, her pale skin flushed to a deep, fiery red. She was liable to kill him no matter what happened. He was afraid of her; he was ever since he saw what she had done to the first model. Lindsey had blackmailed him. She made a big show that she was interested in plants and botany and begged him to get her a special chemical for use in an experiment. Fred walked backwards toward the pile. He picked up the red jug of gasoline and poured.

-Oo-

Mac raced up to Lindsey's apartment and hurried inside. The lock had been busted when he kicked the door in earlier.

"Crystal? Lindsey? Where are you?" He peered around. The women were gone, however he noticed the curtains flapping. The window was still wide open. He went to close it when he found something stuck on the metal rungs. It was a piece of dark blue fabric. Mac picked it up and stared closely at it.

"This is from Crystal's blazer." He said aloud.

Mac went back inside and when he found Lindsey's phone he made a quick call to Henry to tell him he was onto a very important lead. The answering machine picked up and as he left a hasty message, his gaze averted towards the deserted back alleys. He suddenly noticed plumes of smoke rising from the old building adjacent to the cemetery. Mac leaped onto the fire escape and ran down fast. Something was very wrong and he had to get over there.

-Oo-

Crystal's head throbbed and she lolled it side to side to try and shake off her dizziness. The air was stifling. She opened her eyes carefully, and realized she was still in darkness. The bottom of her boot scraped against wood. Her fingers brushed over soft mounds of silky material. Her shoulders were constricted and her prison forced her to keep her arms crossing over her middle.

_'Oh my God!_ I'm in a coffin! I'm in a coffin and I'm still alive!' She thought frantic. There was a faint smell of smoke around her.

"Oh no! NO!" She screamed, afraid she was about to be cremated. However, she didn't feel the box moving underneath, or the sweltering furnace heat. She raised her fists and banged on the lid. It wouldn't open from the inside.

"Get me out! Help me! Help!" She screamed. Panic swept over her and bile rose in her throat as her stomach clenched. The after-effects of the drug were still wearing down.

"Let me out of here!" She screamed again and again, until she gasped for air. Crystal banged and scraped at the edges of the of the coffin lid. The smoke odor grew stronger. She found a moment to calm down and tried to put her ear to the side of the coffin. She could hear the murmurs of harsh voices fading out and then with a deep horror she realized the crackling noises fast approaching was fire.

-Oo-

"Why…why didn't you just kill that woman inside? Shoot her!"

"It's too complicated! She's not a modeling assistant; she's a CIA agent! Her and Harper!"

Fred tossed up his hands. "So putting her in a coffin and burning down a building is easier? You are seriously whacked out!"

Lindsey stumbled onto the grass in the cemetery, still holding the gun on Fred.

"That's funny, I don't feel so crazy, so shut up, Fred! I'm not sorry to have to do this, but any minute the police and fire department will be coming along. Thanks for all your help!"

Lindsey turned suddenly and her face smacked hard against a loose wood board. She dropped the gun and sank to her knees. She cried out and fell face down, grasping at her nose and mouth.

"That's for my Ana you monster!" Paulo stood heaving and raised the board again.

Fred looked in every direction, and then made a dash for the gun. He aimed it at Lindsey. "And this one's for my Stella!" He cried.

Before he could pull the trigger, Mac took a flying leap off a three-foot headstone and bowled into him. They rolled onto the dirt and he grappled for the gun. Mac shoved a palm full of mud into Fred's face and drew him up by his collar, shaking him furiously.

"What have you done with Crystal? Where is she?" He shouted.

He refused to speak, but Mac got his answer as Fred's gaze motioned toward the building. The flames rose higher and burst out the windows on the first floor. Mac socked Fred and scampered toward the building. The back doorway was hot, but he kicked it open and then had to leap out of the way of shooting flames. There was no way to get in from this side. He raced around to where smoke forced itself out through the cracks in the boarded up windows, but the fire had not yet consumed it.

Mac grasped the wood and tore at the beams until they all fell off. He picked one up and smashed it through the glass, clearing a pathway to jump inside. He tumbled in, narrowly missing the shards that sprinkled the dusty cement floor. Smoke rapidly seeped in and the fire licked at the entryway. He gasped when he saw the dark pine box in the center of the room. Hearing Crystal's muffled screams, Mac yanked the lid open, breaking it from its hinges. Crystal sat up quivering with shock, her voice nearly gone from screaming and she still pounded at the air. Tears streamed down her face.

Mac enveloped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head as she coughed and cried against his shirt.

"I found you, sweetheart. I found you." He murmured. He scooped her into his arms and dragged her toward the window.

"Catch your breath!" He ordered her.

The fire trucks and police were just pulling up. Mac helped her out the window as carefully and quickly as possible to avoid her getting cut. He felt tiny shards prickle his legs and palms, but he ignored it. Crystal dove onto the grass, heaving deep breaths. He jumped out after her. When he looked back he saw the flames finally reach the interior of the room and catch onto the coffin. Mac had made it just in time. He picked up Crystal and carried her toward the sidewalk. The firemen ran in his direction with the hose.

"Anyone else inside? Are you two okay?" He shouted, readying the hose to shoot out water.

"We're okay, and…I…I don't think so! It's abandoned."

A rugged faced, older fireman with bushy dark brows came to assist. "It's a wonder this hovel didn't burn down years ago! I've been waiting for this day! Stand back! Turn it on, guys!"

Sprays from the water blast hit Mac and it cooled his overheated skin. Keeping Crystal in his arms, he left the scene. He saw police running to the cemetery. A young, short, rookie cop pounced on one knee with his gun pointed at Paulo and Fred.

_"Freeze!_ Both of you stay right where you are!"

Fred was clawing and sobbing at the grave where Stella was likely buried and Paulo had the gun pointed on Lindsey.

"Take her in! She killed my girlfriend! She killed all those models! I swear!" He shouted.

"Just calm yourself, pal, and lower the weapon." The cop retorted.

Crystal nudged Mac to lower her down. She could barely talk and seemed almost in a state of shock. An ambulance pulled up to the curb. Mac clasped her hand and led her to them so they could administer first aid.

"Mac, you're…you're bleeding!" She finally spoke, her voice raspy.

"Mac picked at the tiny glass in his hands and arms and flicked it away. He winced from the stings. "I'll live, Crys."

They stared wearily at one another and Crystal fell against him. "Thank you, thank you so much." She sniffled.

"I'd do anything for you, you're my partner." Mac said resolute. Crystal raised her eyes toward his face. She was about to kiss him when a siren blared. They pulled apart and Henry raced out with more cops.

"I had to explain that this was all a federal investigation, Mac. They would have accused you and Crystal of starting this blaze. They will be taking Lindsey and anyone else involved into custody."

"I'm glad you made it. I gotta stop these cops before they shoot Paulo. I'll be right back, hon." Mac hated to leave Crystal, but she was already sitting on the edge of the ambulance, sucking up fresh air. She waved at him to go do what was needed.

Henry and the Police Captain went into the cemetery. Mac rushed behind some tall grave markers, hoping to get behind Paulo, while the other cops were ordered to hold their fire. He approached very cautiously. Lindsey had her hands draped over the back of her head execution style, in too much pain to make any more sudden moves. Paulo slowly turned his head when he heard a few leaves crunching behind him.

"This woman must die." He said coldly. "Just like her victims."

"Paulo, it's over. Justice has been served."

"NO, it hasn't. They're going to let her off easy. She's too pretty. She's a white girl; she'll cop an insanity plea. That's always the way."

Mac moved in closer and spoke gently to him. "She can't. The murders of the women were masterminded over a period of months. She was very much in her right mind when she manipulated Fred to get the toxins she needed and put them into the night creams."

"This bastardo must die too." Paulo replied and aimed the gun at Fred.

"Paulo…do…do you believe in God?" Mac suddenly asked in Spanish.

_"Si…"_ Paulo droned softly and raised his eyes to the sky. "Very much."

"Wasn't it God who said, 'Vengeance is mine and I will repay?" Mac asked, hoping he wasn't misquoting the scripture too much.

Paulo sucked in a deep breath and nodded, but his gun didn't waver away from the two on the ground. He went on his knees right above Lindsey. Mac crouched down and maneuvered his body carefully to block her. He put his hands on Paulo's shoulders and the gun brushed against his chest.

"And…and…you know…when I was in the army, I had a friend, a very uplifting, spiritual guy, he's no longer a soldier but he…he once showed me a bible verse that said that certain people in the world, all the agents, cops, judges and stuff, the authorities…they're…they're put in place by God to wield the sword for _a reason_, to keep law and order and to stop the bad elements. He said, God would rather us forgo any violence and focus on serving him, but this is how it has to be in this world." Mac's hand hovered near Paulo's arm, and then he slowly reached out and got a firm grasp on the gun. He carefully aimed it to the ground.

"Paulo…_let God do His work._ Lindsey and Fred will not go unpunished, but it has to be done the right way, by the _law._ I don't want to see you get hurt or suffer; you've been through enough. _Comprende?"_

Paulo limply released the gun and Mac pulled it away and tucked it into the back of his pants waist. He hung back on his knees and wiped the sweat dripping from his brow. Mac the negotiator. Mac the peacemaker. It wasn't very long ago that he would have solved all these conflicts with guns and beat downs himself. The police moved in, first on Fred, who refused to leave the grave, even pulling up mouthfuls dirt when they cuffed his wrists.

"Stella's down there! Dig her up! Dig her up! She could be alive!" He bawled so hard that Mac had to swallow a lump in his throat, however this man was no better than Lindsey.

Two cops lifted up Lindsey and placed her on the stretcher when the paramedics approached. Her entire face was bloodied and swollen all shades of red, pink and blue. Her upper lip ballooned crookedly and she was missing a few teeth. Mac wanted to feel pity, but all he could muster up was contempt for the cold-blooded murderess. Paulo leaned against a headstone and slid down, giving way to fresh tears. Mac patted his shoulder and soothingly drew him toward the exit gate. There was no way that Lindsey would escape the death penalty now. He looked at her a last time and shook his head. She was going to get everything she deserved.


	10. Recovery

**Chapter 10: Recovery**

Crystal gladly accepted the cool compress Mac handed her and allowed him to place it on her forehead as she lay back on her couch. Mac lowered himself onto the carpet and sat alongside her with his legs strewn out. He kicked off his boots and wriggled his aching feet. His sense of victory was short lived and in its place was a gut feeling of despair and pity for nearly everyone involved. He rubbed the tension in his neck and soon felt Crystal's hand take over the massage. He smiled wearily and lowered his head.

The mystery was finally solved, and they were waiting for Stanley Greenbaum to confirm Mac's suspicion on the toxic agents that killed the poor models. It was three days since the cemetery incident. This was the first day Crystal wanted to even speak to anyone. She hid her emotions well, but Mac saw the anguish within her. Right now she needed a friend. She needed him.

Multiple scandals and accusations plagued Claude Dupont, and the fashion mogul was forced to close down the Jezebel Agency indefinitely. The man would be spending countless hours in and out of court as lawsuit after lawsuit was piled on him for breaking contracts, among other shady dealings.

"I almost can't believe it's over, yet another _fine_ mess." Crystal said distractedly.

"It wasn't one of my usual cases, but it had its moments. I just still can't believe that pretty young thing orchestrated all these murderous crimes."

"This is the strongest argument against parental neglect I've ever seen. She's a wacko and she's gonna get what she deserves, they can fry her, bag her and tag her." Crystal's head pounded again and she stopped massaging Mac's neck and lay on her pillow. The aspirin should have been kicking in already. She opened one eye and saw Mac staring glumly at her.

"You don't agree with me do you? I mean about Lindsey."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to, Mac. It's all over your face. You were attached to her in a way. I can understand that. She had everyone fooled with that humble, '_I'm a good girl that wants to be a nurse'_ act of hers. But what she did was reprehensible and she was in a _sound_ mind. It was all for her sick revenge and her poor, _'my daddy don't love me so I have to kill all these girls to get his attention'_ sob story."

"Don't forget her mother was a decadent sleaze of a woman that twisted her mind like a pretzel." Mac added dourly and Crystal glowered at him.

"I'll be popping the champagne the day Henry calls and tells us she's getting buzzed!"

"Ya know, New York hasn't fried anyone since 1963, there's a moratorium on it. As far as I know, anyway."

"Just point me to the damn switch and I'll pull it! God, I hate all this red tape!" Crystal rose up hastily from the couch and tossed down her compress. She fumbled through her kitchen cabinets looking for something to calm her nerves.

Mac bit his lip, deciding it best to change the subject. He had almost forgotten in all the excitement what Lindsey personally did to Crystal inside that old warehouse. He watched his partner pull out a whiskey glass and down two shots of the drink. He went behind her and rubbed her trembling shoulders, lowering his face against the nape of her neck.

"I'm sorry, Crys." He whispered softly. "We'll drop the case talk for now. I want to know how you're feeling."

She let out a slight laugh. "How _I'm_ feeling?" Crystal swung around, her dark eyes bathed in tears. "How do you _think_, Harper? I was drugged, locked in a coffin and nearly burned alive and suffocated! You tell me?"

Her tears fell and her hands shook so violently that Mac had to take the glass out of them. He embraced her, and she sobbed against his chest, digging her fingers into his back and tugging him as close as possible.

"I'm so…so…glad you came to save me." She stammered.

Mac kept silent, and brushed his hands over her body, keeping her as calm and secure as possible. She eventually gulped down her tears and pulled back. She could care less how she looked in front of him; it only added significance to what she was going to say next. Mac patiently kept his focus on her, and stroked loose strands of hair off her face as he waited for her to speak.

"I…I don't think I can do this anymore, Mac. It's obvious to me now. I never had the right stuff to be an agent. At least not like you or even other women out there undercover. I always knew it, but I just wanted to follow in my father's footsteps so badly. I wanted to solve his murder and become something he could be proud of."

Mac sighed, he was expecting this kind of revelation from her, but it still struck his heart to hear it. He had grown very fond of Crystal as a partner and had looked forward to working on more cases, teaching her to be a top field agent like he was. He was _her_ Mr. Delancey. The whole concept of that quirky cover had grown on him just as his love for her.

"Crystal, you don't believe your father wouldn't have been proud of his little girl if she became a make up artist, or photographer or something along the lines of what you really wanted?" He asked.

Crystal rolled her eyes. "My dad found it so amusing that I was such a 'girly-girl' since he was so tough. He said he liked that; it reminded him of my mom. She was a really gentle woman, quilting, knitting, cooking, baking. She even did watercolor and pottery! She was so much more than I'll ever be."

Mac chose his words carefully. "I wouldn't say that. You are _incredible_ in your own way. Crystal, I'm not going to force any decisions on you. I'll miss you so much, pretty lady. I just want ya to know that having you as a partner has been an amazing experience."

"Is that _all _that was amazing?" She stared hard at him. The curves of her dimpled mouth enticed him.

Mac enjoyed teasing her. He tapped her nose lightly. "_Every _second was spectacular. You ooze potential, ya know that?"

Crystal smirked. "Oh, I see, you wanted your very own _Outrider_ Pygmalion, huh? _Well Govnah! I tain't gonna be swaayaed by yur charms!"_

Mac wrinkled his nose. "I didn't think it was possible to butcher a cockney accent. But there it is."

"Hey! I thought my Eliza Doolittle was pretty good."

"I think Henry Higgins would have thrown you out on your _arse_."

Crystal laughed a little more. Mac always knew how to cheer her up. She wiped her eyes and poured another shot. She gave it to him. "I think you could use one of these yourself, _father Flannigan_."

Mac blushed. She was referring to his little preaching moment with Paulo. She grinned proudly at him and patted his cheek. "I'm not going to tease you further on that one. You did what you had to do. It _was _necessary. That was a brilliant strategy and very touching. I cried through the whole thing."

"You really lost it when Fred scraped the dirt."

Crystal inhaled sharply. "Please, don't mention it. I'll be having nightmares for weeks on that one alone. I've been a hermit for a while. Did Henry call to confirm? Was it really Stella down there in that grave?"

Mac chugged his drink and nodded ruefully. "It was a _big_ mess. That pitiful woman, all she ever wanted was to be loved by Claude."

"Claude could never love anyone but himself." Crystal fumed. "If only she had seen that."

"I think she did, but it was too late. The hooks were already in her and she had given up her freedom to 'choose' long ago. She made herself indispensable to him, even though he flung it in her face." Mac took the bottle from Crystal before she could pour more. "I think you've had enough of this hard stuff, and I still gotta drive back to the studio."

A sudden apprehension seized Crystal and she grasped his arm. "Wait…you don't have to leave right now? I…I can start dinner. I was going to. I have some stuff in here." She rummaged through her refrigerator, pulling out loose bags of vegetables and tossing a rock solid chunk of steak onto the counter. The ice crystals had already made a permanent home upon it. She shrugged.

"Well it needs a _little_ defrosting, but we can play games while we wait!" She scurried over to a closet inside her bedroom and patted around the top shelf. "I have Monopoly, the game of Life, we can play cards and…"

Mac came into the room and held her arm. "In other words, you don't want me to leave."

Crystal released the game box and it clattered on the floor. She clutched him. "No! _Please_, Mac, stay with me tonight. It's ridiculous, but I'm so scared!" She admitted tearfully.

Mac clasped her face in his hands and he leaned down to kiss her. "It's not ridiculous. You suffered a trauma. Probably more than you care to admit. I won't leave you. I promise."

Crystal licked her lips and her insides jumped. "Thank you, Mac. I do need you." She closed her eyes and waited for another, perhaps more passionate kiss, even a flourishing lift, but there was none of that. Mac had went back to the living room and tossed himself on the couch, keeping his long feet up on the coffee table.

"Where's that clicker? I'm starved, why don't we just order out some Chinese or something? I'll spring for it. I owe ya for that last night when we had Italian."

"I'd say I got my money's worth that time." She blew him a kiss.

Mac caught it and put it in his plaid shirt pocket. "I may need that for later." He winked.

Crystal went back to the kitchen then returned and slapped the menu against his chest. "Mr. Foo's is the best, real stuff. I want sticky rice, and some chicken and broccoli. Oh, and an egg roll. He makes them fresh everyday. His English is limited, so maybe you should try ordering in Chinese. I _love_ hearing you speak in a foreign tongue." She added, sliding next to him and stroking his bicep.

Mac grinned saucily. "Sure, no problem."

As Mac made the call, Crystal hung on every syllable he uttered in Chinese and when he finished the order he grinned proudly.

"What do you think? I wish we had some German restaurants or something around here, that's getting rusty, yet it's the easiest language I learned."

Crystal leaned over him. "That's _gut_. How long did Foo say?"

"A half hour. Busy night."

She pressed her lips onto his feverishly. "I can wait!"

Five minutes later, the phone rang…and rang…and rang…and rang until her answering machine picked up.

_"Hello, this is Stanley Greenbaum the Chief M.E, I couldn't reach Mr. Harper, so I figured I'd leave you a message to call me back, Miss Dugan. We had another specialist come in and test the samples and we found that…"_

Mac leaped over the couch and grabbed for the phone. He gazed at Crystal and she folded her arms and shook her head sulkily. The whiskey had hit her harder than she thought and Mac smelled it on her breath when he first came over. He crossed his eyes and pouted, but then straightened up as Stanley explained the contents of the toxins.

"Yeah, I understand all those compounds, Mr. Greenbaum, but…I knew it!"

Crystal hurried to his side. "What? Knew what?"

"Oh, hold on, Mr. Greenbaum." Mac cupped the phone. "_Dioxin _poisoning. I remember seeing its effects at some point when I was a green beret. The worst outbreak was in 1976 in Seveso, Italy. Over ten-thousand people exposed to it. We saw slides of the outbreak. It was like watching a George Romero zombie flick. Very sad."

"Dioxin? Oh! You mean that stuff they use to kill plants? I remember my dad talking about it once, some of its molecules were used in the Agent Orange during Vietnam."

"Yeah, it's an aromatic poisoning, but somehow Fred and Lindsey were able to get it or some of the compounds into Claude's body lotions. Or maybe their perfumes? I'll have to press the doc later on for that." Mac spoke again to the doctor. "Yes, I'll tell Henry for you. I really appreciate you putting a rush on this. It was only a guess, but it was a good one. Yeah, it's _very _rare. No one's ever seen anything like it. Chloracne? That's what it's called?"

"What's chloracne?" Crystal asked.

"The awful cysts and pock mocks that appeared on the model's faces." Mac explained. "_Oh wow_, that's horrible. Okay Doctor Greenbaum, I'm really glad you called here. Thanks."

Mac hung up the phone. He swung his arms up and clasped his hands behind his head, his expression troubled. "Apparently, Dioxin is a slow acting agent. These girls were dying slowly for weeks but they didn't quite notice until they started getting sick one at a time."

"How do you know they were getting sick?"

"The M.E. said some of the other models have come forward with stories. They realized something was wrong with the girls when they would miss photo sessions, and all the vomiting and pains they had. They kinda dismissed it as…"

"Let me guess, eating disorders and drug use?"

"Right. The chloracne was the last thing to show up before they each died."

Crystal threw her pillow against the wall. "And you want to feel bad for Lindsey? This is disgraceful!"

Mac paced her living room. "I feel bad for the _whole_ situation, Crys."

Crystal set up plates and silverware on the small table in the kitchen. "Yeah, I know. Well, now we don't have to wonder anymore about what killed them. I'll say it again, everything thing is a mess!"

The food came and Mac and Crystal settled down to eat. They forced themselves to talk of other things besides the case and enjoy a few card games and some late-night comedic television. Against his better judgment, Crystal had a few more drinks and it finally strung her out. Mac gallantly put her to bed despite her flirty, alcohol fueled-advances, but he stayed right by her side and rocked her to sleep.

The following morning Mac tiptoed around the apartment getting ready to leave for the studio. Crystal had had a hard time sleeping for days, but now she was nearly dead to the world. Mac softly kissed her temple and left a note on the bed stand. He'd meet her for dinner tonight. Right now he had an early photo shoot with Dani and the girls. He stepped outside and buttoned his coat higher. He enjoyed the cool winds as he walked briskly toward his destination. He wasn't in the mood for New York's public transportation; he needed to think. Crystal told him that she would need some down time to be completely alone. She had to reset all her priorities and figure out where she wanted to go with the rest of her life. She was hoping to rent a cabin in the woods of Colorado or someplace similar and enjoy nature. Mac planned to act nonchalant, but he would make sure to press Henry for all the specific details of her trip.

Mac came to the building that housed the studio. He grinned as he entered the elevator. If Crystal couldn't figure out what to do with herself—then Mac would do it for her. She assumed she would become a civilian again and continue to work in the modeling and fashion industry. He was going to see to it that Dani hired her in some capacity, and then Henry could possibly use her as an unofficial Outrider, like he did Dani. Mac couldn't shake the gnawing desire in him. He never wanted to be too far from Crystalyn Dugan, no matter what the cost. With that thought he realized it was the first time he truly smiled in days.

It was time to get back to his original business, playing dress-up in the fast-paced world of high fashion, and the _most _important facet in his life, giving aid to those in critical situations with no outside help. The elevator doors opened and he walked out grinning like a fool. He loved this life.

**The End.**


End file.
